Strange Behaviors
by PanteraChina's Co-works
Summary: Bill Grey fights to keep order while an enemy nation threatens. Emotions are a difficult thing to control, and he must hide his feelings for another while struggling to gain composure. Brainwashing, humor, a picked-on guy, and french fry stealing...
1. Drop Your Ranks!

_Disclaimer: Alrighty… This is the starfox section, yes? Which means you nice readers out there should probably know which characters are from the game and which are not, yes? Well, with that in mind, all the characters you recognize from the game are ©Nintendo. All the other characters are ©Alaina Pouliot and Alice King. Thank you for not smoking, and please enjoy your flight. If at any time you have a strong urge to swipe the toupee off of the shiny head belonging to the man in front of you… Please do only in moderation. Sit back, relax, enjoy…and get that llama out of here! _

Strange Behaviors

            

**Chapter 1: _"Drop Your Ranks!"_**

It was six O'clock in the evening at the Katina air force base when the assembly hall doors were opened. New recruits, officers and staff, casually dressed, filed in to claim a spot on the dance floor or at the refreshment tables. Each individual was dressed to his or her own tastes, many in jeans and colorful T-shirts. Yet despite all of the diversities, each person gathered at the annual dance shared a common similarity: the navy blue formal dress jackets, yielding their separate ranks. Above the sea of navy blue jackets, Bill Grey, Commander of the Katinian Air Force, looked down from the stage. He straightened his jacket, cleared his throat, and leaned against the podium, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. By this time, the energetic buzz from the room had quieted down, as people quickly finished their conversations, and turned their attention to the stage. 

"Thank You," Bill smiled, now having everyone's attention. "I just want to start the evening by welcoming you all to the thirty-second annual 'casual dance'. As most of you know, this is the most informal event ever to grace the face of 'Katina Base'- And, that rhyme was not intentional…" Bill paused, glancing across the ranks as the room echoed with light laughter. "This is the part we all love. And if this is your first year here, then I'm sure you'll learn to get used to it very quickly." Bill grinned and stepped away from the podium, raising his left hand into the air. "Ladies and Gentlemen… Drop your ranks!" When his hand dropped, it was followed by the sound of hundreds of navy blue jackets being dropped simultaneously to the floor. The burden of military rank had been lifted, and the most laid-back night of the year had officially begun. 

As Bill made his way off of the stage, Effy, his friend and colleague greeted him with a savvy grin (Not unusual for Effy). "You know what I love most about this dance?" She asked, her jacket draped casually over her shoulder. 

"You don't have to listen to me for an entire evening?" Bill laughed.

"Well, that, and I get to pick on you all night without any fear of consequences." Effy grinned devilishly. "It's like open season on your butt!" 

Bill shook his head and chuckled. "And you think I will forget all about it in the morning too, I suppose?"

Effy sighed, realizing he was right. "Oh yeah." She paused, looking up at the saucy grin on his face. "You love it when you're right, don't you?" She shoved him playfully, but he didn't push back. He never did. Instead he just smiled, and adjusted his balance. The band played on the stage behind them, and the two of them began paying some attention to the music. Bill bobbed his head lightly to the beat, his floppy ears bouncing in unison. Effy chuckled to herself, watching his ears flop against the top of his head.

"You wanna dance?" Bill asked suddenly.

Effy grinned. "Do I get to step on your feet?" 

"Only if you feel it necessary." Bill held out his arm, Effy took it willingly, and the two of them made their way out to the dance floor. The music was light and bouncy, with a strong beat that practically carried those who were dancing around the floor. Once in awhile, Bill would catch Effy off guard with a spin or a dip that she wasn't ready for, and Effy would later return the favor by purposely stepping on his feet. Song after song they would dance as friends dance, laughing at each deliberate attempt one made toward catching the other by surprise. 

As the music faded out, dancers stopped to catch their breath and wait for the band to chime in with the next song. 

"My feet hurt," Bill commented wryly.

Effy looked pointedly down at his feet. "They look like they hurt."

"What are you talking about? I'm wearing shoes. How can you tell?"

She grinned. "Your shoes look like they're in much pain."

"Wha…?"

"Never mind. I love doing this to you."

He shot her a strange look. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, mercifully changing the subject.

Effy shrugged graceful shoulders. "Sure. Why not?"

"Um. If you're not thirsty, you wouldn't want a drink."

"That was a rhetorical question, Bill."

"I know that. I love doing that to you." He raised his eyebrows mockingly as he threw her own words back in her face. 

The lioness just rolled her eyes. "You." She turned and headed for the refreshment table, not waiting for him to follow. Bill just grinned again and did so. 

"A glass of punch, please?" Effy asked the man at the counter, a tall and skinny black panther wearing an apron over t-shirt and jeans. He just smiled at her and poured. 

"Sure thing."

Her little plastic cup was completely empty and she was handing it back for more by the time Bill made his way over. 

"Better make that two," he said, and then glanced at Effy's cup. "Or should I say three?" 

The server ducked his head. "Whatever you say, Commander." 

"Hey, wait up a sec. I'm not commander tonight, remember? I'm just another guy… An oddly handsome guy…. But still, just another guy."

"And modest too," Effy quipped cheerfully. 

Mr. 'not a commander' ignored that noticeably. The panther just smiled again, affected as everyone else was by Bill's infectious smile, and picked up another cup. Then he frowned and looked at the others apologetically. "I'm sorry, but the jug of punch is empty. There's another in the back if you'll just wait a moment."

Bill shrugged. "No hurry, dude." 

Effy cocked her head and smirked up at him as the man disappeared into the next room. "No hurry, _dude_?" she inquired sweetly. "I thought you didn't talk like that outside of your office."

The grey husky shrugged, not bothered. "So sue me. It slipped."

She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment the punch server made his appearance again, holding their two glasses in one agile hand and a jug of mixed punch in the other. Wordlessly he handed over the former to the two partygoers before setting the latter down with a grunt. It was a large container and looked heavy. 

"Thanks," Bill said and Effy nodded, downing the punch in one gulp. He looked at her amusedly.

"You'd better slow down there, Casanova, or you're gonna make yourself sick."

"Sick? No. I have a strong constitution." Her eyes sparkled for a moment. "After all, I work with you."

"Yeah, that would be enough to immunize anyone to too much punch."

"Amen." Behind them, the music from the last song drew to a close to the polite clapping of a scattered few. The band warmed up, playing a couple of chords as they prepared a new set. 

"Dance again?" Bill asked her. 

She tapped the last few drops out of her glass and into her mouth, and then set it down with a casual sigh. "Why not?" He grinned and opened his mouth and she shoved him with one finger. "And don't answer that!" 

He dimpled cutely and held out his arm. She took it and they moved onto the dance floor. To their surprise, a romantic slow song started playing. It was not what either of them had in mind and they stared at each other, at a loss for a moment. Then Bill shrugged fatalistically and took Effy's hand, placing his other lightly on her waist. She went along with him and also fell into dance mode, allowing him to lead. 

Her hand settled on his shoulder and they started moving. Bill was surprised to notice how good a dance partner she was. He didn't like to brag but there weren't many people who could follow him competently on a dance floor. Having a dance instructor for a mother would do that to you. Effy, however, matched every move of his with a smooth grace that made the song a pleasure. He wondered absently how she would be with something faster…like the foxtrot, for example. He grinned to himself at the thought. Actually, that might be fun. Effy was the sort of person you could talk into doing those sorts of things. She was always open to new ideas. 

The music changed in beat slightly and Bill duly swept his partner into a gentle dip. Effy effortlessly went with the flow, and swung back into his arms again. Her face was flushed slightly and her jade eyes sparkled. She was enjoying this as much as he was. Her softly styled bangs were somewhat disheveled around her beautiful face. Wait…beautiful? Where had that come from? This was _Effy_! She wasn't beautiful; she was funny, and witty, and great to be around but not…not… She did a slight pirouette around him just then and Bill's mind shut down for a second. She _was_ beautiful. Why hadn't he ever noticed before? And they had so much in common. He had more fun with her in a single minute than he had with most other people in the course of a day. _Oh my God,_ Bill suddenly realized_. I think I'm in love with Effy! Whoa. _The husky felt a silly smile start to form on his lips. Effy noticed and shot him a puzzled look, and he immediately wiped it off again, a sobering thought occurring to him. What if she didn't feel the same way? How could she? They'd been friends for years, with no romantic thoughts in the mix. Just because he suddenly felt something was no guarantee that she did. It wasn't even likely. As far as Effy was concerned, they were still just good friends. And if she found out what he was thinking now? It would ruin that friendship, not to mention their professional relationship. There was no way he could tell her. Bill sighed quietly. He'd just have to keep this to himself, and pretend he wasn't having these feelings for his best friend. 

***

Effy swept onto the dance floor with her arm tucked into Bill's. A slow song came on and she blinked up at him in surprise. He looked equally thrown for a second, and then shrugged and moved close, placing one hand lightly on her waist. She matched his pose and they joined the dance. He was good, she noted. Not that she should really be surprised. Bill was one of those people who just seemed to be good at everything. Except for singing, of course. She stifled a chuckle at the thought. A clueless DJ with a rusty turntable could hardly sound as bad. But dance he could; and didn't look half bad doing it, either. She'd noticed that he was cute before, of course, but it hadn't really registered. He was just Bill; a fun guy to hang around with, talk to, make fun of… things like that. 

But now, as he spun her around the dance floor, the lights twinkling around them like something out of a fairy tale, she really noticed him for the first time. His dove grey fur was silky soft where her arms brushed against it and bright hazel eyes smiled into her own with a warmth that she didn't feel around anyone else. He was handsome, and kind…and wonderful. Effy slipped into a sort of dream, staring into those eyes, happiness consuming all thought in a sudden wave. Then she woke up with a slight start. _Oh my god. I've fallen in love with BILL. This is love. That's what I'm feeling. Wow. _The realization hit her like a shot between the eyes. She'd never been in love before, but had no doubts whatsoever that this was it. He swung her into a dip just then and she let herself flow with it, not really thinking about the dance anymore, her mind too blown by this startling insight. And when he straightened her, there was a strange look in those perfect eyes. A…thoughtful look. Effy shot him a quizzical glance, a slight smile on her lips. He shook his head silently, dismissing it as nothing, and spun her around. She pirouetted for him dutifully and then returned to the embrace of his arms. But an unsettling thought had occurred to her. She was in love. But was he? There was no way. After all, they'd been friends for what? Two years? And in that time they had forged a friendship the like of which lasted forever- one that could, if affection didn't louse it up, that is. It was too much to hope for that he returned her feelings. He'd never mentioned anything of the kind, and now if she brought it up she could be tearing down the best relationship that had ever happened to her. _No. I won't do that,_ Effy vowed. _He'll just never know, that's all. I'll never tell him._ That way, she might lose a small thing, barely realized, but save something that meant all the world to her. 

***

"Would you look at those two?" Kayote leaned casually against the punch table and looked at the server with a grin. "I have been trying to get them together for the longest time, and it finally happens. I mean, they're so perfect for each other! They already practically pick out each other's socks; they just couldn't realize it themselves. Well, I'm glad hard work finally paid off." 

The panther behind the counter just smiled at the coyote and nodded noncommittally. 

Kayote's wife, Phyllis laid a hand on his shoulder as she walked up, a matching smile on her face. "Work?" she inquired archly. "And just who's been doing work? You sure haven't."

"Oh come on! Are you saying I had nothing to do with that?!" He gestured to the still dancing couple.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, dear. Their love life is none of your business."

"They wouldn't HAVE a love life if it wasn't for me! I've been dropping hints ever since I first met them."

"Which just proves what a colossal meddler you are. It doesn't have anything to do with their feelings. You think anyone pays any attention to you?"

"Well…who do you think made the band start playing that slow song the minute they got on the dance floor, huh?"

Phyllis sighed. "Yes, we're all very proud of you. Now can you leave them alone and spare a dance with your wife? Or would you rather dance with the punch guy?" She shot the server an apologetic look. "Nothing personal."

He just shrugged as Kayote spluttered. She turned back to her husband. "Good," she replied to his surprised silence and dragged him out.

"But…but Phyllis! I've got two left feet!"

"Even better. That way you can step on your own." 

The two (one still protesting) moved onto the floor and joined the general revelry as the slow song ended and something faster came on again. The dance was winding down by now, however, the revelers slowly but surely tiring out as the night drew to a close. Finally "Stairway to Heaven" came on, and people coupled up again to enjoy the last dance of the night. Kayote noticed that poor Roman had been ambushed by Gabby and was even now dancing with her, a put upon expression on his face as she managed to dance and keep a running commentary of her day going, both at the same time. He grinned at the dog in commiseration, before dancing on. All too soon (or not soon enough, from some people's perspective) the song was over, and with it, the dance. The hall emptied slowly as chattering people, weary but cheerful, made their way off to their bunks. 

The heads of the Katinian military shared an elevator to the top floor of the building where their apartments were located, minus Kayote, who had a home with his wife and family. A strangely silent Effy and Bill, and a usually silent Roman shared the space quietly. The only thing that kept the stillness from being complete, and thus uncomfortable, was the fourth occupant of the elevator. 

"Wow, what's, like, with you guys? You're all acting like Roman or something. And it's weird because normally, you're all, like, talking and stuff. But I guess its normal. I mean we did just get out of a dance, so I suppose you could be tired from, like…dancing and stuff. I sure am! Wow. I mean, I can barely get a word out from yawning…"

Roman chuckled. He couldn't help himself. Unfortunately, Gabby noticed. Not that she got offended, but…

"Oh, what? Did I say something funny? I don't remember saying something funny. Oh, come on, Roman. You've got to help me out here. If I said something funny, I want to know what it was, because, like…I could say it again and, like, make you laugh! And that'd be good, because you're too quiet. I think I've said this before, but you, like, seriously need to lighten up a little bit. It's not healthy to be so, silent all the time like that. And I thought I was doing pretty good down at the dance. You at least said, "I want to…stop dancing now." And that was, like, a whole sentence! It was a healthy expression of your feelings, even though I didn't stop dancing. I hope you didn't mind terribly, Roman, I just loved that song so much, you know…"

"Gabby," Bill cut in tiredly. "Um…we're almost at the top. So maybe you should stop talking now, so you can save all your energy for sleep. It takes a lot out of 'ya."

The bunny considered for a second. "Okay," she agreed brightly and lapsed into silence.

"Oh, thank God," Effy breathed as the door pinged open. They all split their separate ways, Roman silently waving goodnight, and Gabby actually remembering her promise not to talk... for once. Bill and Effy walked to their room doors, which were adjacent. She paused with her hand on the handle. 

"Well, Goodnight," she said.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. G'night, Effy. Sleep well."

"If your snoring doesn't keep me awake." Before he could reply to that she was gone in a swish of smirk. 

Bill shook his head wryly and entered his own room, taking only a moment to get undressed before flopping on the bed in the deep sleep of the very confused. 

***

_Annoying footnote: So, how you like it so far? I guess you'll just have to review to let us know, right? C'mon… I don't bite! And Pantera… Well… I don't think she'd do it in public. Wait a second! I DO bite! Sorry… Forgot all about that predicament with the dog, and the little kid…And the Supreme Court Judge… *shivers* Water under the bridge though, right? Naw, I'd never bite anyone between meals. So… REVIEW! Or I may just consider brunch!_


	2. 'The Usual'

_Okay, there's the love interest. Now enter…dum dum dum SOME PLOT!!! And the French fry stealing that was mentioned in the intro. Yay! Anyway, enjoy!_

***

**Chapter 2: _'The Usual'_**

****

            When Bill's alarm went off at five O'clock the next morning, he nearly pushed it off of his nightstand. After banging the clock several times with his fist, he finally managed to silence its screaming. (then suppressed a slight temptation to stick his tongue out at it.) He rolled over on his pillow with a grunt, and stared up at the ceiling, letting the whimsical images from the night before recur in his mind. _I'm all alone with this one_, he thought. _How could I ever let this happen?_ With a shameful sigh, he rolled out of bed, dressed, and made his way into the hall, which was already filled with the hustle and bustle of early morning. 

            "Good morning, Commander." Didi Packard, the upstairs secretary, smiled cheerfully over her half-moon glasses. "Sleep well?"

            "Very well," Bill lied. "And how are we this morning, Didi?" 

            "Oh, we're just fine," she grinned. "All of us."

            Bill chuckled, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot next to her desk. The smell alone was very soothing to him. It helped to suppress the subtle thoughts he kept getting about slinking back to bed.  "Hey! Hazelnut… My favorite," he commented after taking a sip (or was it a gulp?)

            The old woman smiled. "I know."

            "Didi, you're a saint."

            "Well…" She sighed, "at least I didn't make the mistake of getting _almond roast_ again." She looked slightly ashamed, frowning up at him apologetically.

            "Didi, quit kickin' yourself for that. It's my fault. I should've told you I was allergic. Stop blaming yourself, okay?"

            The doe rolled her eyes slightly, and nodded, blowing a strand of grey hair out of her face.  "So, how was the dance?" She said quickly, changing the subject. 

            "It was fun. Though I don't think I saw you there. You usually go."

            "My son was visiting from Fortuna, and I haven't seen him in over three months. Those scientific types you know… can't even find time for their own mothers…" She paused, and glanced over his shoulder, smiling brightly. "Well good morning Effy, dear!"

            The very sound of her name caused Bill's stomach to do a back flip. This reaction was incredibly strange to him. Though he didn't know it, Effy was doing her best to avoid him that morning as well. She managed a smile, and turned to them quickly. "Morning Didi… Hey Bill." 

            "Hey Ef." He could never recall wanting to be nearer to her than he wanted just then. But at the same time, he couldn't help wishing to be as far away as he could possibly manage. Such mixed feelings would not be easy to live with, surely. But what choice did he have?

            "So…um. What are you up to?" Effy poured herself a cup of coffee as well, and then stood there fidgeting with it.

            "Well, you know. It's a Saturday. So as usual, I'm going to _The Usual_."

            She nodded and took a gulp of her own scalding wake-up call. "Oh."

            Didi frowned confusedly through her glasses. "What? Am I missing something here? The usual?"

            Bill grinned at her, despite his sleepiness. "It's kinda an in-joke between Fox and I, Didi. _The Usual_ is a restaurant where we meet to catch up on things every Saturday."

            "Ah. Thanks for enlightening me." She smiled sweetly up at him. "At least I know you'll be eating today, then. Look at you. So skinny." The deer tsked in a motherly fashion as she turned back to her computer. 

            Bill glanced at Effy, half expecting a wry comment from the peanut gallery, but the tawny lioness was staring into her coffee cup as if it held the mysteries of the galaxy. He finished his own in one more gulp. "Well…I guess I'll be going then."

            "What? Oh. Yeah. See you later." She hadn't looked up. 

            "Uh, yeah." Were all his conversations with her going to be so awkward now? With a quiet sigh Bill turned and walked off. 

            ***

            He stepped into _The Usual Bar and Grill_ and immediately spied Fox sitting at their (heh) usual booth, playing absently with the saltshaker. The husky quietly walked over to his friend's turned back, without arousing his notice. 

            "Hey," he said loudly.

            Fox jumped a foot. Salt went everywhere. "Shit!" He turned and glared up at his friend. "That's not funny, Bill."

            "Yes it was. Were you…having fun with the salt?"

            Fox smirked in embarrassed humor. "It's good company. I had to do something to pass the time…because SOMEBODY is late. No names mentioned, of course."

            "Sorry about that. I'm having kinda a weird morning." Bill plopped into the seat across from the fox. His floppy ears bounced against his forehead as he did it, as if they had a mind of their own. He frowned up at them, before rolling his eyes and focusing on Fox once more. 

            The vulpine smiled slightly. "I already ordered," he explained. "Weird how?" 

            "Ah, you know. Just this, that, and the other thing." 

            "Oh. I hate those."

            "Yeah."

            A waitress came over with two plates, each laden with a cheeseburger and enough French fries to fill the Cornerian capitol building twice over. Fox smiled at her absently and dug in. "Not bad. Their food's improved since last week."

            "Uh." 

            The red furred canine glanced over at the lack of response his joke had gotten. Bill was staring down at his burger vaguely, as if he expected it to do something. Then he picked it up and took a bite, chewing slowly. This wasn't like Bill. Normally, food was just an excuse to get someone to sit down long enough to talk to. The gregarious dog usually took twice as long with his meals than anyone else because every other bite was sandwiched between excited sentences. Now, he was barely producing grunts. 

            Fox narrowed his eyes slightly and slid one hand across the table to the other's plate. It was a running joke between the two that he had never been able to steal one of Bill's French fries. Ever. The chair he was sitting on could disappear from underneath him and he wouldn't notice, but if you even thought about snatching one of his fries, you would risk losing a hand. But now Fox took one without the husky noticing, and then another, and even a third. He looked down at the three French fries in his hand, and then back at his friend, who was still chewing determinedly on his mouthful of burger.

            "Want to talk about it?" he asked. 

            Bill swallowed. "Bout what?"

            "Whatever it is that's bothering you so much that I was able to steal three…Count 'em, THREE of your French fries."

            "You…what?" He looked down at his plate, and his head whipped up again. "Hey!"

            Fox smiled. "Well, there's a delayed reaction. So, what is it?" 

            "Nothing."

            "Oh, come on."

            "Nothing's wrong!"

            "Bill. This is me you're talking to."

            The husky sighed, and then nodded. "Okay. I'll spill. But this is going to sound really, really stupid."

            "Don't worry. I've come to expect that from you."

            "Hey, shut up. None of your comments. This is really difficult."

            The fox straightened his face. "All right. No jokes. I promise."

            "Okay. You know the annual dance that goes on every year?"

            "As opposed to the annual dance that _doesn't_ go on every year, I suppose."

            "Hey, I said no jokes!"

            "Sorry."

            "You should be. Anyway, I was there with Effy. I mean, I was there with everyone, you know. But I was hanging around with Effy because, you know, she's my friend, and stuff. And, um…this slow song came on and…well. You know…stuff happened."

            Fox raised an eyebrow. "What sort of 'stuff'? 

            "Nothing like that! Shut up! I thought we had a deal, here. I just…okay. I noticed how pretty she was, and stuff. Because she is! Have you ever _seen Effy?"_

            "Um, yeah Bill. I've met her before. She seems nice. I'm happy for you."

            "Well, save the praise for now. I didn't tell her anything about how I felt. I mean, how could I?! As far as Effy knows we're just good friends! I don't want to mess that up."

            Fox nodded, and stated bluntly. "So you love her?"

            Bill stared. "Duh."

            "That wasn't an answer."

            "Well, you think I'd be obsessing about this so much if I didn't?!"

            "You still haven't said it, Bill."

            "Ah…alright! I…love Effy. There. I said it. Happy?"

            The other gazed at him intently. "No, because you aren't. I think you should tell her. It's the only way you're ever going to be able to deal with this. The dance was last night, and you haven't even been able to make it through noon yet. I mean, what were you going to do? Try to hide this from her forever?"

            "Hah. If I have to."

            "But that's not being fair to Effy, Bill. And its not being fair to yourself, either."

            Bill shook his head in negation. "She doesn't love me, Fox. Did you know that? How can I tell her?"

            "How do you know she doesn't?" Fox countered. 

            "Call it a guess." 

            "Fine. But a guess only takes you so far." And with those words, the vulpine stood up. "I have to go. I'll see you later, Bill. Think about it." He turned and walked out.

            Bill Grey sat for a long time at that booth, staring at his cold fries. 

***

Bill flicked on the lights in his office and dropped his coat on the coat rack. Then he stared tiredly at the large stack of papers sitting in his 'in' box. "Great," he muttered. "I knew I shouldn't have stared at those French fries for so long." With a sigh he sat down and picked up the first thing on the pile. It was a new recruit file, the first of a long line of them waiting for inspection and approval. They came in waves, varying from fifty to over a hundred on a bad day, and each one took about an hour to fill out. Fun. 

Well, the pile wasn't getting any smaller with him just staring at it. He opened the document in his hand up and read the first line. Just then, a pile of new papers landed in the 'in' box with a whoosh. He looked up and saw Effy standing there.

"Just thought I'd help," she said. 

"Oh, Goo-die." He glanced plaintively at the now massive pile. "Thanks ever so."

"Anytime." She didn't seem to be her smug self somehow. The slim lioness glanced at him almost nervously, and then dropped her eyes. "Well, I'll just be…going now."

"Effy, wait!" he called as she turned and headed out. His subordinate paused, looking back inquisitively.

"What?"

"I…Well…What I mean is, I …" Just at that moment the bottom seemed to drop out of his stomach, and it wasn't from nervousness. Bill clutched his midriff as a sudden pain bubbled up. "…feel sick."

She crossed her eyes. "Pardon?"

"Ah…I don't feel so good."

"And you…called me back to tell me this? Thank you so much, Bill. I'm glad you think so highly of me." She gave a sniggering laugh. 

"No, I didn't mean you! I meant…ow. I think I'm gonna barf."

"Oh, well that's so much better. Thanks."

He opened his mouth to reply again, but the truth of his words hit home just then and instead he bolted for the bathroom. Three minutes of interesting sounds later, Effy wasn't laughing anymore. 

"Wow. You really are sick, aren't you?"

"No. This is just how I relax," wafted out from the bathroom.

"But, what was it? Was it something you ate?"

"I don't know. But, if it was…it's not anymore."

"Eew."

"Thanks for the commentary." He cut off suddenly.

"Your welcome. Anytime." Silence. "Bill?" Concerned, Effy walked over to the partially open door. Not that she wanted to see anything, mind, but Bill didn't normally leave a good insult alone. He would have said 'shut up', at the very least.

"You okay in there, Bill? Other than the obvious, of course." Still nothing. Well, there was nothing for it. With a grimace Effy pushed the door the rest of the way open and looked inside. Bill was lying on the floor, fur soaked with sweat, his eyes closed.

"Bill? Oh my god!" She rushed forward and shook him, trying to wake him from his daze. His ears flopped, but other than that there was no reaction. The husky was out cold. Not waiting another second, Effy scrambled to her feet and raced to his desk, slamming one finger on the com-link button. 

"Phil! Get Nurse McNeil up to Bill's office at once!"

_Please, **please,** PLEASE review us! Please! Wow. Do we sound desperate enough yet? **PLE-EEE-EASE!!!** How about now? Okay, cool. We really need to know what you think, because we're working on this as we speak…or as you read this. Any constructive criticism would be ecstatically welcome. Any praise would also be welcome. Please review._


	3. The Errand

_Disclaimer: Er- you read Chapter one right? Yeah… So… What do you need a disclaimer for?! Run away! Run away!_

**Chapter 3: _The Errand_**

****

            Bill opened his eyes to find himself laying limply in his bed, a pair of worried faces hovering over him in concern. "Wow. Who died?"

            Effy stared at him incredulously. "You did, you big idiot."

            "Oh. How'd I do?"

            "What?"  
            "Well, everyone wants to go out with a bang, yes?"

            "Yeah. You went out with more of a _yeachh." She seemed happy to see he was all right, but with Effy, how could you really tell?_

            "Lovely."

            "Oh, thank you."

            Nurse McNeil, affectionately known as Sarah to nearly everyone at the base, raised an eyebrow at the two quibbling commanders. "None of that now. Bill needs his rest more than he needs to argue with you, Effy."

            "But I'm so fun to argue with," Effy deadpanned. 

            Bill sat up a little, only to get pushed down absently by Sarah. "Okay, I'm a little fuzzy on the whole 'what's going on' thing, right now. Um…what's going on?"

            "Well, you had a fainting spell after getting sick."

            "Yeah, you really freaked me out," the lioness added for no particular reason. All of a sudden she seemed to remember whatever had been bothering her earlier and stepped back, falling silent. 

            Nurse Sarah went on. "You seem to have contracted the Aquaian Flu somewhere."

            The commander frowned. "That's impossible. I had that when I was a kid. It sucked."

            "The Southern strain?"

            "Yup. And the Northern, three years ago."

            "There are two strains of Southern Flu, hon. Did you have A or B?"

            "Uh…A, I guess."

            The white ermine straightened, and said far too cheerfully, "Well, congratulations. You've just caught the B virus. Don't you feel proud? One more and you'll be immune to all four of them."

            "Oh, I'm ecstatic," he said dryly. "How long is this going to last?"

            "You're in luck. Southern B is a twenty-four hour bug."

            He relaxed. "Oh good."

            "Just don't get out of bed until then."

            Bill looked askance at his desk, still vaguely to be seen through the adjoining door, and the stack of papers on top of it. "No arguments here."

            As if to prove his point, the phone on his desk started ringing. 

            "Oh. I'll get it," Effy said quickly and jogged out.

            "Yeah. Tell whomever it is to go to Hell!" he called after her. He was joking. Unfortunately, he was talking to Effy.

            "Hi. Please go to Hell." There was a long second of silence. "Oh…heh. Hi, General. No. Of course I didn't mean that literally. It was just…a little office humor. Um…Bill made me!"

            Bill groaned. "Oh, thanks so very much." He clapped a hand to his forehead. "That's it. I'm a dead man. No way I live through this." Meanwhile, Effy was still talking to General Pepper, her voice now too quiet to hear, for a wonder. Now she was shaking her head, and then stooped to jot something down. Bill and Nurse Sarah watched in silence. 

            "I don't know what she's doing, but I think she must be stopped," he commented conversationally to her. Before he could move, however, she hung up, and a moment later joined them in the bedroom again.

            "That was General Pepper," she reported.

            "Yeah. You don't say. Effy, what did you tell him?"

            She smiled brightly. "Just that you were sick as, heh, a dog. And had thrown up _all sorts of interesting things."_

            "You didn't!"

            "No. Scared you, didn't I?"

            Sarah spoke up, asking the obvious question. "So, what _did you tell him?"_

            Effy shrugged. "That Bill had the Aquaian Flu, _again, so couldn't take that mission himself."_

            "Um…what mission?" Bill looked a patient inquiry at her. You had to be patient, dealing with Effy.

            Her brow furrowed. "Well, he didn't exactly tell me. The minute I said you were sick, he told me he'd have to try to find someone else, then, hung up. Weird person, the General."

            "No doubt." The phone rang again. "Oh, honestly! What is this, the Katinian military or Uncle Jack's Pizza Place?!"

            Effy smirked. "Can't be. The food's not good enough." Once again, she jogged into the other room and picked up the phone. "Uncle Jack's Pizza Place, you buy 'em, we eat 'em. Oh, General! Hello again."

            "Aw… I'm going to kill her. I swear." 

            Sarah, amused observer to all of this, now grinned at him. "You can't. You can't get out of bed. Kill her tomorrow."

            The one with the price on her head came back into the room just then, holding one hand over the portable phone's receiver. "Bill, it's the General again."

            "Yes. So I gathered when you said 'oh, General'. Call it a hunch."

            "He wants to talk to you."

            "No! And here I thought he called my phone because he wanted to talk to you, Effy!"

            "Bill, this is serious. He wouldn't insist on talking to you now if it wasn't important."

            He nodded, and stopped the jokes. "All right. You can just, put it on speaker phone, then."

            She nodded and hit a small button on the phone's side, nodding to Bill as a cue to begin talking.

            "Afternoon, General. What's the problem?"

            A clipped British voice emerged from the plastic. "I know you are ill, Commander, but this is very important, and it couldn't wait. We have garnered intelligence on a possible Androssian Movement near sector X, quite close to the nebula. We need someone to scout out the area and see if this information is founded."

            "Well, sir, I'd be glad to lend you a hand, but…" Sarah glared at him. "I'm kind of under doctor's orders here."

            "Hm. I see. I admit, I hoped that it wasn't that serious. This poses a problem. There are not many pilots I would trust near such a treacherous area, and your ship is specially modified to deal with the gravitational swirls."

            "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what to tell you."

            Effy cocked her head. "Tell him I'll go," she volunteered.

            A cough came over the phone. "Well, I'm not really sure… your ship's not really equipped to handle it, Effy."

            "Well, you said it was _near the nebula, right? As long as I don't have to go into the nebula, I'm fine. If the Androssians are preparing a raid, we need to know about it."_

            Bill opened his mouth to protest and she gave him a very level look, daring him to say anything. He closed it again. Instead, he turned to the speakerphone again.

            "Why don't you send Delia to check it out, sir? She's a competent pilot, and…she's got nothing better to do than torture people anyway." 

            There was a pause from the other end. "Commander Larnez is…otherwise occupied. I'm afraid I cannot use her for this mission."

            "I'll do it," Effy spoke up again.

            "Hm. Very well. This assignment takes full priority. You'll have to leave right away, I'm afraid."

            The lioness nodded briskly. "Understood, sir. I'm on my way."

            "I'll be waiting for your report, Commander." With those words he hung up.

            Bill raised an eyebrow at her. "Why did you do that?"

            "The mission's important, Bill. _Someone had to go."_

            "Yeah, but not necessarily you. You volunteered awfully quick, there."

            Effy shrugged, and forced a dimple. "Maybe I'm bored. Anyway, I have to go. Assignment takes priority, don't you know." And with those words she turned and left, leaving the husky with his mouth hanging open.

            He looked over at Sarah. "At what point am I going to understand her?"

            The ermine grinned back. "Hopefully never."

***

Well? How'd you like it? Hmmm, unless we can read minds, then I guess you'll just have to push the REVIEW BUTTON!! Good idea, yes? Pleeeease?! Oh please please please?!! (Sound desperate enough?) Okay, just one more for good measure- PLLLLEEEAAAASSSSEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!- Well, I had to make it count. 


	4. Strange Behaviors

**Chapter 4: _Strange Behaviors_**

****

****Warren Slater stood facing the window, looking out at the two planets that hung in the view of the plate glass. The smaller of the two, Malenkee, was sparse and bare, the hot winds of a solar planet sweeping it endlessly in harsh gusts. It was a wasteland; the small part of it that was habitable, near the caps, was burned in its desert heat. The other, Bolshoi, was its complete opposite. It dwarfed its sister planet, swelled almost four times its size, and drifted, a solid block of ice in the spacial night. Another empty wilderness, a biting tundra where not many could survive. He sighed and turned away from them, staring into his darkened office. 

            There was a knock and a moment later the door slid open, flooding the apartment with light. 

            "Sorry to intrude," a light tenor voice said, far too flippantly. "But I…"

            "Dammit, Alec! I told you I didn't want to be interrupted!"

            Umber eyes glinted with amusement in the pale luminance glowing behind him. "Well, since I'm fairly sure you were just staring at the wall…again, I didn't think it was that urgent."

            Warren felt his expression twist, unable to contain his disdain for the serval cat in front of him. "What did you want?" he said tersely. 

            Alec Secorsky cocked his head, his faint smirk remaining on despite the other's reserve.  "Well, I just thought I'd tell you that your 'operative'," A sudden bitterness filled his voice at the word. "was successful. The Katinian Commander is temporarily incapacitated, and his second in command is scouting in his place. Soon she will be accounted for, like the others."

            Warren felt his anger fade at this news. "Excellent. Marcus has done an admirable job, just as always."

            "Oh, of course." The words were muttered, barely audible, but bobcats have remarkable hearing. Warren leveled a glare at the other.

            "Acrimony doesn't suit you, Alec. We never could have gotten this far without Marcus's help."

            "I know," the serval deadpanned. "But is that a good thing?"

            "What's not to be admired about this plan?" He gestured expansively in the dim office. "If all goes well, the Lylat system's economic structure will soon collapse and we'll be able to occupy it unopposed."

            "If it works."

            Golden eyes surveyed Alec from tufted fur. "It will work."

            ***

            Bill stared at the book sitting on his dresser. The book didn't do anything interesting. If he recalled he'd been right at the climax of it when he'd last put it down, and, since he was bedridden anyway, he wouldn't at all mind seeing what was going to happen. There was just one problem. His dresser was across the room. He was not. 

            "I just know," he grumbled to himself. "The minute I get out of this bed, Sarah's gonna walk in and yell at me. I don't need the book. There are plenty of interesting things to…stare at…" Bill stared at the book again. "Oh, screw it." He threw back the covers and stood up. Sarah walked in. 

            "What are you doing out of bed?!"

            "Aw. I knew it! Do you have some sort of sonar, or something?"

            Her hands were on her hips. "I distinctly told you to stay in bed."

            "I was just getting a book. You know, to read? I really didn't think that the minute I set foot on the floor, I was going to drop dead."

            "None of your excuses!"

            He rolled his eyes. "Oh, boy." Thinking better of his idea, the husky climbed back into bed. "In that case, could you get me my book?"

            "I'd be happy to, as long as you stay in bed." She walked over and handed it to him. 

            "Thanks." He opened it up to read. Sarah still stood there. "Um…did you want something?"

            She smiled. "Actually, that's what I came in here to ask you. It can't be easy to stay in bed all day. Especially for you."

            "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

            "Oh, nothing. So, do you need anything?"

            "A cure?"

            "Don't get cute."

            He dimpled. "But I am cute."

            "Well, you don't look so hot right now."

            Bill straightened and felt his forehead. "That's funny. I feel hot. But no, since you asked; I've got my book. I'm fine, thanks."

            Sarah nodded and sent another commiserating smile his way. "In that case, I'll just get out of your hair. Remember, if you need anything, just call. Just DON'T…"

            "Get out of bed. I know." 

            The ermine nodded crisply. "Good. Be sure you remember that." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

            Bill lay back with a sigh. He was about to die from boredom. Well, at least he had his book. He opened it up again and started reading, but he couldn't concentrate on it. His mind kept drifting to a certain tawny lioness. Where was she right now? Had she run into any trouble with the Androssians? And why wasn't she back yet? How long had it been? He craned his neck to look at his clock when the door was flung open violently. Effy's voice broke the ensuing quiet, sounding terse and impatient.

            "Nothing's there." And the door slammed shut again.

            Bill stared. "Wow. That was…weird. Effy?!" He pushed back the covers and stood up, walking to the door and opening it to follow. Since she wasn't in his office, either, he continued on into the hall. Sarah was walking by, naturally.

            "Get back in bed," she ordered, not even slowing down.

            "Dammit." He took one more step out and she stopped and glared at him. He smiled winsomely and reentered his rooms. Okay. Plan B. He went back to bed, but snagged the phone off his desk on the way by. Bill pulled the covers back up irritably, and then dialed Effy's office extension.

            The phone clicked. "What?!" she snapped.

            "Uh…Effy?"

            "Who did you think it was? The Pope?"

            "Um…well, not unless I dialed a _really wrong number."_

            An annoyed sigh. "What do you want, Bill? I'm not in the mood."

            "Apparently. I just wanted to know if you ran into any trouble."

            "I told you I didn't."

            "Yeah, but you seem kinda…pissed off, and I wondered if there was a reason for it."

            "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, if you're quite done wasting my time, I have _work to do." The line went dead._

            "But…since when has she ever minded my wasting her time? Hell, half the time, she wastes mine." Bill stared at the phone as if it had suddenly sprouted a pair of feet and started doing the Can Can. That just wasn't like Effy. Nowhere near it. The husky wondered if it was something he had done.

            **

            The next morning he was feeling infinitely better. Physically, at least. He was still worried about Effy, however. Bill felt he'd spent a good couple of days doing nothing _but worry about Effy, and it was time he figured out what was what. The very thought made butterflies of nervousness dance around his still tender stomach, but Bill steeled himself against them. There was nothing to do but go talk to her again. He just hoped she wasn't as cranky as she had been yesterday afternoon. _

            Bill got up (with a vague unfounded fear that Sarah was going to walk in again) and got dressed. He still felt a little lightheaded from his wayward illness, and so took things easy as he shuffled out into the corridor. He knocked on Effy's door, and waited for an answer. None came. So he knocked again. Still nothing. Bill was starting to get annoyed at the stupid door, when he noticed the little light on the panel was glowing red. Oh. She'd soundproofed her office. That's why she couldn't hear him. Wow, he _must be lightheaded, not to have noticed. With a sheepish grin, he hit the button next to the light. _

            "Hey, Effy? It's Bill. Can I come in?" Now she'd open the door so they could talk. Nothing happened. There was no reply. He hit the button again. "Uh…Effy? Hello?" Still nothing. Maybe she wasn't in there. But if not, then why would her office be soundproofed? There'd be no point in that. So he hit the button one more time. If he'd forced himself to talk to her about this, he wasn't going to let her avoid him. "Effy! Hey, Ef-mis. I know you're in there! Open up, I've got to talk to you." Still nothing, so he plowed on. "If you don't open this door, I'm going to start singing. Don't tempt me…you know I'll do it. First song…Mirror in the Bathroom." No reply. "Okay, you asked for it. Mirror in the Bathroom, bathroom, bath…" 

            Her door was yanked open. "What?!" an exasperated Effy demanded.

            Bill blinked for a moment at the unexpected reply. That wasn't like Effy…but then, what was, these days? "Um…can I come in?"

            Exasperation was replaced by irritability. "Why? I'm busy."

            "Because I need to talk to you. In your office. Well, I mean, we could do it out here, but you probably don't want the entire hallway listening in on us." He raised his voice. "Isn't that right, Didi?"

            "I'm not listening! I didn't here a word you just said!"  
            He rolled his eyes. "Even though she just answered me."

            "I know! But, after that, I'm not listening!"

            Bill looked at Effy. "See what I mean?"

            Effy shot a disgruntled look in Didi's direction, before turning her less than friendly gaze on him once again. She sighed. "All right. But make it quick."

            "Thanks." She moved aside just enough for him to squeeze by, making it clear that he wasn't really welcome. Bill stopped in the center of her office and glanced around. Piles of paper were scattered all over her desk and a number more were lying in crumpled heaps next to the wastepaper basket. 

            "Wow. This is really…messy. For you, I mean," he said appreciatively. His friend was normally fastidiously neat. 

            She just sighed again. "What did you want, Bill?"

            "Well…maybe I was wondering…if you were possessed by the devil, or something. Because you're acting very "un-_Effycal."_

            She stared at him for a moment. "First of all, that pun was stupid. Second, I have not been possessed by the devil, just by the irritation of having to work with a bunch of stupid morons who couldn't even pass a blood test if they had cheat sheets! Third, GO AWAY!" Clearly, she had lost all patience with him, but he decided to give it one more go.

            "But, I…"

            "GO!" And to prove her point, the lioness snatched a stapler off her desk and hurled it at his head. Bill ducked and backed out the door, which closed with a definite whoosh. He blinked at the closed structure for a moment in disbelief, and then slowly made his way to his own office, where he sat and blinked some more. There was something definitely strange going on here.

***

_Review, and I'll love you… Hell! We'll BOTH love you!!!!!! Please?!!! Review! If you review, the rabid monkey of doom will not feast happily on your innards. Well, not unless he's hungry. Of course, we don't "**have"** to let him out of his cage. ^_~ I love manipulation! I LOVE IT! HEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!! (Do "**you"** own a monkey of doom?… I didn't think so.)_


	5. The Operative

**_Note: _**_Guess what?! Since all the characters in the chapter belong to us anyway, we don't have to post a disclaimer! Then why am I posting one? BECAUSE I CAN! Anyway, enjoy chapter five. (And watch out for the German guy). _

**Chapter 5_: The Operative_**

****

****Grey rain fell in a steady drizzle on the darkened bricks of the Minuen Capitol Building when the black panther walked in. He strode with the easy confidence of one who belongs in such places, but engendered no notice as he passed by security. They barely glanced at him, either taking his presence as par for the course, or not even noticing him at all. He had an air of anonymity about him, and the eyes seemed to skip over his features on their own accord. He took the first elevator up, crammed in with six other people. They were all wearing expensive business suits with their hair neatly brushed, and he, with his rumpled T-shirt and jeans, should have stood out and attracted notice, yet did not. 

            The man traveled to the very top of the building before disembarking, nodding to the security guard standing watch, a banded Tabby cat who was unfortunate enough in life to be named Zawkmed. The guard smiled and nodded in return, obviously recognizing this stranger. He walked to the front desk and rapped lightly on it to catch the attention of the young secretary, who was talking on the phone while filling out some form or other. She glanced up at him with annoyed expression, which faded immediately as she saw who it was.

            "Hold on a moment, Marge. Business calls." She put the phone down and smiled brightly up at him. "Well hello, stranger. Long time no see. What can I do for you?"

            He smiled back warmly. "Hello, Mina. Is Mister Slater in his office?"

            She rolled her eyes. "Is he ever anywhere else?"

            "May I go in and talk to him?" 

            "Honey, you know you're always welcome. You can go in anytime. Besides, its not like he's in the middle of something, or anything." Her brow furrowed. "At least, I don't _think he is. At any rate, go on ahead." She waved him forward. _

            He nodded and sent another smile her way. Ah, Mina. The eternally clueless. He knocked politely on the rich mahogany door before opening it and respectfully entering. The tall bobcat sitting behind the massive desk was poring over a pile of papers intently by the light of one small office lamp, clearly too involved in what he was doing to notice or care about the darkness. He glanced up sharply at the sudden illumination from the door, but his expression relaxed immediately when he saw the shape of the silhouette, and he broke into a broad smile. 

            "Ah, Marcus. You've returned."

            The panther made a touch of a bow. "As quickly as I could, Mister Slater." 

            "Excellent. All went well with the mission?"

            A brief surge of annoyance washed through him. "Of course. I sent a message through Alec. Did he not…?"

            "No, he delivered it. I was just confirming the fact for myself." Warren Slater chuckled self-consciously. "Just a picayune eccentricity in myself, I'm afraid; this need to double-check." He looked down at the stack of work in front of him, and then pushed it away with a tired sigh. "I'm glad you're here. To be honest, I was about ready to set all these tax commission forms into a cheerful conflagration if I had to look at one more of them tonight. I wasn't made for the tedious tasks of life, I believe, but someone has to do them." He blinked ruefully at the pile. "And when I assumed office, I became that someone."  

            Marcus nodded with a genial look. "But surely there's no reason to do them in the dark," he said and calmly walked to turn on the overhead fixtures. They both blinked in the sudden brightness. "There. Much better. You'll ruin your eyes if you work in such dim light all the time."

            Dryly. "I'm touched by your concern." Warren shook his head and got down to business. "I do not wish to inconvenience you, my friend, but if you are not too fatigued by your journey and…activities, I would like your opinion on certain matters of state."

            The other inclined his head graciously. "Of course. I would be glad to review anything you wish." He followed the bobcat to the desk and looked with curiosity as Warren shuffled through the massive pile of papers. At last he drew a small sheaf out of the hoard.

            "Ah. Here it is." He unfolded the top piece into a quickly massive schematic of a space jet. "I've been going over the cost prediction for the new I-83 and I think there's a problem in the numbers somewhere. There is simply no possible way that the machine could be so expensive to produce on a regular basis." He paused and looked at the design for a moment. "God, she is a majesty, though, isn't she? Nowhere nearly as advanced as the aircraft the Lylat System have access to, of course, but far more appreciative in aesthetic design; to my mind at least. And, with fortune, we will soon be able to exorcise the few shortcomings she does have."

            "Beautiful," Marcus agreed, but he seemed to pay scant attention to the word. Instead, he had already turned his mind to the other papers, which recorded in precise detail every spent and projected cost the project entailed, running them through his mind looking for the error. "Ah. I think I see it." He pointed to one of the lines. "The landing gear alone is massively overpriced. It looks like a mathematical error to me. A simple miscarry in the digits can add or subtract thousands, or even millions of credits."

            Warren followed the panther's pointing figure with his eyes. "Ah. I see. I'll check on that in the morning, to be sure. I…"

            The door swung open and bumped against the far wall. "Hey, Warren, I wanted to ask you…" Alec Secorsky stopped dead to stare at the man by his commander's shoulder. "Oh. You're here."

            Warren rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "How many times must I ask you to knock first, Alec, before it _finally sinks in?"_

            "Well, I didn't exactly think you'd be doing something private…"

            "That's not the point! It's a security breach for one, and its common courtesy for another."

            "Well, that explains why I haven't figured it out yet, then." His umber eyes slid to Marcus again and he turned his head away. "I just needed to tell you that The Weirdo is here again, checking up on his '_invention.'"_

             Marcus frowned at him in mild disapproval. "_Doctor Bellec has a name, you know, Alec."_

            "Yeah. The Weirdo. At any rate, he's demanding to see Warren, me, you, the gardener, the cook…I don't know; anyone who'll listen to him rant, and he's getting more steamed up by the minute. I'm thinking we should humor him and go down there."

            Warren straightened and tugged his shirt straight. "All right. Let's see what he wants." He walked past Alec, with Marcus at his heels, and the aggravated serval was forced to hold the door for both of them. He sneered at the black panther as he passed by. Marcus pretended not to notice. As Alec closed the door behind them and turned to follow, Warren paused and looked back at him. "Oh, and Alec? We can do without the pointed remarks and attitude. That behavior's beneath you." And with those words he turned and swept down the hall, as regal as a king, his entourage of one faithfully following. Alec stared after them and grimaced.

            "Since when," he muttered, and hurried to catch up.

            Dr. Bellec was a short fisher cat with a gaunt, drawn face and a pair of overly sized coke-bottle glasses perched on the end of his nose. They magnified his owlish eyes to such an extant that they seemed to take up his whole head. He was standing at the front desk on the ground floor, arguing with the security guard on duty.

            "I don't CARE if he's busy! I vant to speak with Warren Slater at once! Do you understand vhat_ at once means, you neanderthal ignoramus? It means move out of my vay before I retract my agreement to join on this project!"_

            The guard, the unfortunate Zawkmed again, tried to reason with him. "Look, I'm sorry, Dr. Bellec, but Mr. Slater is in a meeting. I'll be sure to tell him that you're here just as soon as he's available…"

            The doctor rolled his eyes in exasperated churlishness. "Vhy do they always brush me off on the hired help? Let me make something vividly clear to your little peanut brain. If I do not get to go see Slater _at once, I vill leave zis building. And I vill never step into it again with my experiments. Understand ****__that, Zawky?!" _

            Zawkmed bristled at the hated nickname. "Now wait just a minute…!"

            "It's alright, Zawkmed. I'm here."  Warren walked up to the weasel and nodded formally to him. "What can I do for you, Dr. Bellec?" 

            Zachariah Bellec turned and tugged his shirt into place forcefully, looking superiorly at the newcomers.  "Finally," he declared ungraciously. "I knew I'd have to come here personally to get your attention. You have ignored my e-mails vith a blitheness that I find frankly offensive."

            "I'm sorry if we have caused you any inconvenience, doctor…" The doctor opened his mouth in affront once again. Warren spoke right over him. "But I am here now and willing to listen to whatever grievances you wish to air." Not letting the fisher get started again he looked rather pointedly around the reception area. "Perhaps someplace a little more private would be more suitable, however. Shall we continue this discussion in my office?"

            "Ve most certainly vill." The white lab coat flared dramatically as he stalked towards the elevator. Alec was in his way, but he didn't slow down or alter his course. The grimace on the weasel's face spoke volumes about his temperament at the moment and the glare he shot the serval would have melted glacial ice. Alec hastily stepped out of the way and allowed the doctor to barrel past him to the elevator. There Bellec turned to survey them, peering over his massive glasses, his foot tapping irritably. "Vell? Are you coming?!" 

            Alec shook his head. "Can't we just shoot him and do the world a favor?" Marcus looked at him disappointedly and shook his head as he walked by, heading with Warren for the elevator. The blonde sneered back. "Yeah, you're already on my list, pal," he said snarkily. 

            The elevator ride commenced in silence. Alec was glaring at Marcus. Doctor Bellec was glaring at Warren. And Warren topped the whole thing off by continually adjusting his tie. It was a great relief to all when the doors pinged open. Once in the office, Zachariah once again turned to the leader of the Minuen people. 

            "Now," he bit out. "Ve vill discuss my grant money."

            "Oh, of course," Alec snorted. "I should have known. It's always about the money." 

            Warren glared him to silence. "What about it?" he asked.

            "Vell, let me clarify that. Vhat ve will discuss is its lack! Vhen your lackey…" He gestured contemptuously towards Marcus. "…approached me in regards to using my Erida project he promised that the government vould provide funding for my other projects. I handed over my research freely vith zis understanding, and thus far you have withheld the aid that I vas promised! Now if I do not receive what I rightly deserve, zen I shall withdraw all of my help from zis operation. And let me tell you, wizout my aid and technical know-how you vill be dead in ze water! Project Erida cannot proceed wizout me!!" His words had grown in intensity until the last had been said in a shout. Now Bellec stopped dead to glare around the room in general animosity. Alec broke the silence.

"Well, that was quite a rant. What you deserve, eh? Well in that case, the problem's easy to solve. What I said below…"

            "Alec, please." Marcus glared at him for a second before turning a congenial gaze on the doctor, who was rather out of breath. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you mean when you say the project will sink without you. Could you clarify?"

            The weasel caught his second wind. "My money…"

            "You'll get your money," Warren broke in. "No fear of that. We pay our employees for their services. Now answer his question."

            Bellec humphed over the term employee for a moment, but finally deigned to answer. "As you know the Erida Machine disrupts ze Beta waves, or ze low frequenzy waves in ze mind. Zis causes ze subject targeted by ze machine to become off-centered emotionally, which naturally brings out ze baser, more anger based emotions. Zis condition vould, of course, continue to resonate and increasingly disrupt ze judgment skills of ze target." He paused. "Let me put it in terms zat you can understand. It makes ze people affected become increasingly unable to control zeir more negative emotions until zey at last have a complete breakdown."

            "Department of redundancy department," Alec murmured. "Tell us something we don't know."

            "But why…" Marcus began again.

            The doctor glared at both of them. "You vant to know vhy you need my input still, ja? I'll tell you. Because I built zis machine. I know how it vorks, and _at vhat rate_. Without my help you vill have no idea how soon to put your plan in motion, vhen ze optimal time vill be to strike, how to set up ze ENTIRE plan! You need me, my _compatriots_." He spat the word. "So you had better hope zat I do indeed get my money." 

            Warren had had enough. He stood up from his chair. "Thank you for that information, Doctor. I'm sure you can find your way out."

            Zachariah actually bristled. "Now vait just a minute! You can't just throw me out…"

            The bobcat smiled humorlessly. "Well that's funny. Because I think I just did." The smile dropped off his face. "The fact is, Bellec, that I won't sit in my own office and be threatened. You'll get your money. We've agreed to that. But for now, I think you had better go."

             "And quickly," Alec added. "Really. We're tired of looking at you." The weasel spluttered for a moment, incoherent with indignation. "Yeah, you do that," the serval said and took the doctor by the arm, firmly leading him away. "Buh-bye now. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Before Bellec could make another protest he had had that door shut firmly in his face. Alec came back dusting off his hands.

            "Honestly, Marcus. Where did you dig up that wacko? Not that I should be surprised, since you did the recruiting, but…"

            "Alec, please." Warren sounded very tired. "Not now." The bobcat turned with a sigh and shuffled the papers on his desk. He paused when he came to the blueprints of the I-83, and then sighed again. "Ah, yes. I wanted to go over the rest of the figures for this and look for errors before I called it a night. Marcus, if you don't mind, would you assist me?"

            "Of course," Marcus agreed with a smile. "Otherwise you'll be here all night. And what would that do to your eyes?" 

            The bobcat looked askance at the ceiling for a moment. "Quite," he agreed. "Alec would you excuse us?"

            The blonde looked up. "What?"

            Warren rolled his eyes. "Leave. So that we can commence." 

            "And…I can't be in the room for you to stare at a bunch of numbers?"

            "Alec…"

            "All right. All right. I know when I'm not wanted. Which is often around here, I might add." His mouth twisted bitterly at the words. "I don't see why I'm such a burden all of a sudden. You never used to mind…"

            "Mr. Secorsky," Marcus cut in quietly. There was a half smile on his face. "I'm sure no one here wants to step on your toes, but Mr. Slater and I really do have some work to get done." The hint was clear. The smile never wavered. 

            Alec stared at him for a long moment. You could have cut the silence with a knife. "Fine," he said finally. "Far be it for me to get in your way." He turned on his heel and strode out. 

            Outside the door he paused, waving off the curious glance of the secretary, Mina. He glared holes in the wood of the door, his blood boiling. "One of these days, Cade. You'll eat dirt at my feet."  

***

_So? How we doin' so far? Well, there's ONE way to let us know… REVIEW! And please deposit all litter into the nearest trash receptacle. Thanks, and have a great flight. (The in-flight movie is "Lassie dies of heart disease" by the way… One of my personal favorites.) _


	6. The Diffussion

**_Chapter 6: The Diffusion_**

            Bill bent over his desk and scribbled his signature onto the latest form. Great. Only a hundred and twenty seven to go. He sighed. Sometimes it just didn't pay to get out of the sickbed. Faint murmurs of conversation wafted in through his open door, proof positive of an existence outside the endless wall of paperwork. He hadn't shut it entirely when he'd entered the office, and didn't feel like getting up to do so now. In fact, he sort of liked it. The noise served as an impetus to get the work done, a sort of 'light at the end of the tunnel' thing. And he needed all the encouragement he could get today. 

            Now he became aware of one voice in particular wafting in. Effy had a very distinctive note to her words, not quite an accent but rather a dry tone that was utterly unique to the lioness, and he recognized it now though her voice was raised in anger. He strained to hear, but the soundproofing of the mostly shut door muffled all but the hum of the conversation. She was most definitely bitching out SOMEONE, however, and Bill squashed a brief moment of relief that it wasn't him. _I really should go out there and stop her. Whoever it is, the way she's been acting, they can't have deserved it._ He listened again, trying to discern the identity of the victim. Then he frowned.

            "That's odd. 'Can't hear anyone else. Is she yelling at the wall now?! Not that I'd put it past her." Bill looked blankly at the paperwork for a moment. Then he got up. A little break wouldn't be _too_ bad, and his interest was piqued now. He just had to see what was going on. 

            The husky poked his head around the corner. There she was all right, but it was the person standing opposite her that really caught Bill's attention. His mouth fell open.  Scott Roman cringed against the hallway wall as if wishing he could disappear. His pale brown eyes were as large as saucers and he seemed to collapse a little more into himself with every vituperative word hurled his way. He didn't say a word, of course. 

            "…And another thing. Why are you always lurking about like this?! You're like a freaking ghost! Always popping up when you're least expected, or wanted. And I, for one, am sick and tired of tripping over you! Honestly, have a little respect and _try_ to stay out of people's way! It's the least you could do if you have to burden us with your presence." She straightened and tapped her fingers against her arm with unconcealed irritation. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?!"

            If anything, Roman's eyes widened. If there was one thing the dog feared more than anything else, it was being forced to speak. He gulped, took a deep, drowning breath, and then stuttered. "I…I…uh…I was just getting a cup of tea…"

            "Tea?!" Effy practically shrieked. "Who in this God given universe drinks tea nowadays?! For the love of life, Roman, _grow up_!"

            Bill couldn't believe his ears. If there was one non-written, utterly unbreakable code in Katina Base it was that no one, bar NO ONE, yelled at Roman. The mute-by-choice had been through enough abuse, and dealt with enough hardship already in his short life. The universe seemed to have a grudge against him personally and the canine dealt with it by going silent and going scared. So why make the problem worse by yelling at him? This had to stop. 

            "Effy," Bill said, stepping out of his office. Unconsciously he slipped into 'commander mode', his voice turning serious and his visage grim. As much as the husky joked around normally, no one disobeyed him when his face looked like that. Some things just aren't wise.

            Effy sighed and muttered something that sounded like, "God save me from idiots everywhere," before turning to face him. She noted his expression and her own grew a little less terse. But only a little. "What do _you_ want?"

            "Leave Roman alone, okay?"

            "Oh, so you're his wet nurse now? How cute for you."

            He ignored her and turned to his still cringing subordinate. "You okay there, Roman?"

            The dog shook for a moment, and then nodded once, hastily. 

            "Then why don't you go on back to your office. I'll have Didi bring you in your tea. You know she knows exactly how you like it." Bill smiled kindly at him for a moment before turning cold hazel eyes to Effy once more. "I have to speak to the Lieutenant Commander in private for a moment."

            Roman glanced between the two of them, nodded, and backed away. He kept a chary gaze on the lioness the entire time, as if he expected her to leap at him, disappearing at last around a corner. Effy watched him go with a sour expression.

            The Commander turned around and started walking. "In my office. Now."

            Once inside Bill settled down into his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the desk. He raised his eyebrows and looked at the other grimly. "Now. You wanna tell me what that was all about?" 

            She sneered at him. "What what was all about?"

            "What…?" Bill stopped in surprise for a moment. "Yelling at Roman. What was _that_ all about?"

            "He deserved it."

            "Roman?! What'd he do, look at you funny?" 

            "Among other things." She crossed her arms. "Look, it would really help me out if you told me why I'm here."

            "Effy…" He stopped again and sighed. "This has to stop, Effy. You've been mouthing off to me for two days now, you're not getting your work done, everyone on the floor is avoiding you, and now you're yelling at ROMAN! You're not acting like yourself, Ef, and frankly, you're starting to scare me. I…"

            "Are you charging me with anything?"

            He blinked. "What?"

            "It's a simple question, Bill. Try to pay attention. Are. You. Charging. Me. With. Anything?"

            "Uh…well, no. Not as such, but…"

            "Good. Then I don't see any reason to stick around and listen to this garbage." She turned on her heel and started to stalk out. 

            "Effy!" Bill stood up. "You haven't been dismissed yet, Commander." 

            She stopped dead and very slowly turned to face him. Her expression was granite. "Fine then, _Commander_. I cordially ask to be dismissed." 

            He stared her down, hazel eyes beating into emerald. "Yeah, you're dismissed," he said. "In fact, consider yourself under suspension until further notice." Her eyes flashed and she opened her mouth. He cut her off. "You are not to involve yourself in or otherwise affect any command decision on this base until you have gotten your head screwed on straight. This is on pain of disciplinary action up to and including possible court-martial depending on circumstances.  Is that understood, _Lieutenant_?"

            Silence. Then, "Perfectly, sir." 

            "Good." He nodded. "You're dismissed." 

            Without a word she turned and left. The door swished shut behind her. Once she was gone all the bravado left Bill's form. He plopped down into his chair once more, and then slumped down into it, staring at nothing. How had things gone so wrong so fast? His eyes slid across his paper-strewn desk aimlessly, searching for meaning through the notes and forms. They stopped on the small pad of notebook paper he used to jot phone messages down on. Scrawled there, as clear as anything in Effy's handwriting were the words _General Pepper. Special Mission. Scout in good ship required. One not barfing his brains out, preferably_. Oh right. She'd answered the phone for him when he was sick. Bill had to smile at the last words. That was so Effy…or at least the way Effy used to be. The smirk slid off his face again. _Special Mission._ Something about that bothered him. True, Effy had reported finding nothing, but then she'd started acting weird right about that time. A part of the general's conversation floated through his head just then, as clear as if he'd just heard it.

            _"Why don't you send Delia to check it out, sir? he'd said.__ She's a competent pilot, and…she's got nothing better to do than torture people anyway." _

_             "Commander Larnez is…otherwise occupied. I'm afraid I cannot use her for this mission."_

_            Bill's eyes narrowed in thought. He straightened and picked up the phone receiver, dialing the memorized number easily. One ring. Two. A click and then the familiar British voice of General Pepper emerged. "Yes? Pepper speaking."_

            "General? Hi. It's Bi…uh, Commander Grey." 

            The voice on the other end warmed. "Ah, Bill. Yes. What can I do for you?" Then. "Is something the matter?" 

            Bill squirmed for a second. He didn't want to tell the general that he'd just had to suspend his second in command. He still didn't know what was going on with Effy, and didn't want anything on her permanent record if it wasn't necessary. 

            "Uh…not exactly, sir. I just sort of had a question. And if you could answer it, it would really help me out." 

            "Very well. What is it?" There was a rustling of plastic on the other end. That would be Pepper getting out his 'ready to listen to someone' lollipop. Strange person, the general. 

            "Well, I was wondering. When you said Delia was occupied and couldn't be used for the scouting mission the other day, just what exactly did you mean by that? How was she occupied?"

            "I'm afraid that information is classified, commander. It's on a need to know basis." The general's tone was stiff.

            _Great. It's gone from 'Bill' to 'Commander'. Walking on dangerous ground, here. _

_            "Please, sir. I think I really need to know. There's been some…pretty strange stuff going on around here, and I think things just might be related."_

            "Strange? Strange how?"

            And there was the problem again. "Um…well, I'd really…rather not say, if that's alright, general. It's not anything serious," _I hope, he added to himself. "But I'd really like to clean it up, and to do that I need some information. Is it at all possible that you could bend the rule this once?" The husky crossed his fingers. General Pepper was fond of him, he knew, and he was hoping that fondness would allow for the liberty he was taking. Pushing for classified information was against military policy, after all, and could get him in big trouble if the hound dog wasn't willing to put up with it. Basically, either this would work, or he had just stepped out of line big time. _

            There was a long pause on the other end of the telephone. Then the general's voice came again. "Very well, commander." Bill started breathing again, but Pepper's next words caused his throat to catch. "Commander Larnez began acting very strangely not long ago. Quite unlike herself. I was forced to relieve her of command, temporarily of course, until the source of her…indisposition could be discovered and remedied."

            He groaned inwardly. _Oh no. One thing seemed off, though. Bill cocked his head. "Sir? You said De…Commander Larnez was acting strangely. What, was she actually being nice to people for a change?"_

            "Oh no. Just the opposite in fact. Normally she's so sunny and polite, but last Tuesday she was…well…a complete and utter monster."

            _Sunny and polite? Complete and utter monster seemed more like the Delia Bill knew. But if she'd been acting that way around the General, when normally he was the object of her complete brownnosing delight, then something surely was up. And he didn't like the parallels of their situations at all. Still, a bitchy Delia wasn't much of a stretch to the imagination. "Sir, is it all right if I visit her? I mean, she's not under house arrest or anything, is she? I'd like to talk to her, see if I can find out what's up."_

            The sound of another lollipop being unwrapped came across. "That sounds like a delightful idea, Bill. And no, she's not in any sort of official trouble. Truly told, I would be greatly appreciative if you could talk to her. Get her back to the old Delia we all know and love!" 

            Bill didn't trust himself to reply to that. "Yes, sir," he managed to say instead of all the things he wanted to. "I'll be sure to do that. Well, I'll just sign off now." He started to put down the receiver, and then paused. "Oh. Just for curiosity's sake, general. Why was THAT classified? It's odd, sure, but hardly a government secret."

            Another silence ensued, and the husky wondered if the other had already hung up. He hadn't, though. "I'm afraid _that I can't tell you, Bill. I'm sorry, but it's important that certain things __do remain classified."_

            "I understand, sir." Bill hung up thoughtfully. He hit the intercom button from the command nodule on his desk and keyed the identification number for Kayote's office. A second later the coyote answered.

            "Yeah, Bill. What is it?"

            "Kayote, I'm going to Corneria for a while. I need to talk to Delia."

            The charismatic furry whistled. "Unfeely Deely? Huh. Good luck, sir."

            "Yeah. Thanks for that. Oh, and by the way. Until further notice you're the acting Lieutenant Commander of Katina base. Good luck with _that." Bill hung up on his friend's surprised sputtering before he could ask any questions.  He then pointedly ignored the little red light that immediately started flashing, indicating that Kayote was trying to get in contact with __him. It wasn't that the husky meant to leave him in the lurch, but he simply didn't feel like explaining the whole situation, and his reasons for suspending Effy. Especially since he wasn't sure of them himself. _

            Shoving that rather gloomy thought out of his mind, Bill stood up and gathered together his courage. He'd need every advantage he could get when he went to go see Delia. 

            ***

            Bill was ushered into the elevator of the Corneria One command center, which ground to a start with a quiet hum of machinery and headed for the top floor. In no time at all the doors swished open onto a corridor that looked very like the one he had left not long ago. Here the leaders of Corneria's first defense lived and worked, guarding against the day when Andross's forces would attack. Bill stepped out and glanced around, searching for a certain polar bear he knew would be lurking around. 

            "BILL!!!" Two hundred and twenty pounds of white fur and muscle barreled into him and the husky felt himself lifted off the floor in a gigantic bear hug. Bill gasped for air. He could swear he felt his ribs separating. A second later he was put down, however.

            "How are you," the polar bear said energetically. "It's great to see you! What brings you here?"

            "Um…hi, Mackie." Bill straightened his spine as best he could and smiled at the Lieutenant Commander of the base. "Getting my bi-monthly chiropractor session."

            Mackie Dougin frowned in friendly confusion. "What?"

            "Never mind. No, actually I'm here to see Delia. Heard she got suspended. Wanted to see what was going on. Uh…is she around?"

            The smile dropped off the other's face. "She's here," he said soberly. "But if I were you I'd think twice about going in to see her."

            "Oh, believe me, I've thought twice about it. I've even thought thrice about it. The problem is that I still have to go."

            Mackie shook his head. "I'm serious, Bill. You know how…um…Delia is normally?"

            "Strangely terrifying?"

            "Exactly. Well, she's been even worse lately, if you can believe it."

            Bill considered. "I can't believe it." He raised a hand. "Not that I'm doubting _you. I just can't imagine a Delia any worse than…what I've seen of her." He glanced around the corridor and squared his shoulders. "At any rate, I really don't have a choice here. I'm trying to puzzle something out, and I'm starting to think Delia just may be one of the key pieces. I'll see you later, Mackie." He turned and started to walk away._

            "Yeah," the bear called after him. "_Maybe you will." _

            Bill turned around, still walking. "Well, in case not, any last words for me?"

            "Don't die."

            The husky snorted. "I'll try my hardest. And thanks so much for the vote of confidence, by the way." With that he turned and headed in the direction of Delia Larnez's office and rooms. 

            No one answered the door when he knocked. Bill checked to make sure her soundproofing was off and then knocked again. There was a dull thump and then silence. The husky hesitated for a moment before gently pushing the door open. 

            "Delia?" He paused halfway in the door and looked around, surprised. Her office lights were dimmed, and he could see the first part of her private rooms through the connecting entrance. "Hello," he called again and raised his eyebrows as another thump echoed through the corridor. Bill frowned and walked across the shadows. 

            He stopped in shock as his gaze fell on the dusky bedchamber. The light here was diffuse as well, spreading from one shaded table lamp to scatter throughout the room in a vain attempt at illumination. And what it fell on was chaos. Curtains were ripped down, tables overturned, and one impressive chair had been smashed to pieces. It was a tornado-strewn space, weathered by fury and rage, victim to a vicarious frustration. And in the middle of it all, on a blanket strewn bed, was a huddled figure. It lay still with head down, not moving. 

            "Delia," Bill said and the form twitched. Concerned, he crossed over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

            She started away from his hand like a stepped on snake, scooting across the bed in the space of a heartbeat. Wide eyes stared at him past straggling blonde bangs. "Don't touch me!"

            "Whoa! Hey. Take it easy." Bill raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "Nobody's touching anyone. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." 

            The badger stared at him for a second longer and then visibly pulled herself together. She straightened her back and stared coldly at him, a sneer touching her lips. "What are you doing here, Bill?" Delia Larnez got off the bed and brushed aside her bangs; pushing them into place next to her ears in an attempt at making herself look presentable. Her uniform was rumpled, dark blue creases marring the navy fabric. 

            Bill shrugged uncomfortably and glanced around her room again. "Well, I was hoping I could talk to you," he said. 

            The sneer grew more pronounced. "So this is a social visit? I don't think so. What do you want?" She stared at him as if trying to burn a hole with her eyes. They were just a trifle too wide, a trifle too fixed. 

            "Not exactly," he allowed. "I…uh…well actually, I'd heard about…" He paused, unsure of how to go on. Somehow he didn't want to come right out and mention her suspension. Something about Delia's manner was unnerving him more than she ever had before. The woman was practically trembling with suppressed energy and seemed on the verge of striking at him. Or collapsing. He found himself speaking in a low, soothing tone. "Delia, I was wondering if anything…unusual had happened to you lately. Anything that might have, say, pissed you off?"

            "Everything pisses me off," she snapped immediately, tapping her foot in frenetic dissatisfaction. "Having to listen to you pisses me off. Dealing with the morons around this base pisses me off. Mackie's pigging out pisses me off." Her tone was as sharp as a knife. "Was there anything _in particular you had in mind?" _

            "Well, yeah. I don't suppose you've been by the X nebula recently, have you?" 

            Her foot stopped tapping. The badger was no longer glaring; she was staring. Then her eyes narrowed. "Who sent you here, Grey?" she asked, suspicion tingeing the question. 

            "No one sent me here…"

            "Was it the general? He has it out for me. I always knew he did…"

            "Delia, no one sent me. I was just asking because Effy…"

            "Effy?!" Delia seemed to bristle all over. "What has that little tramp have to do with anything?"

            Bill straightened. "Nothing," he said. "And Effy's not a tramp. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on around here, and why everyone seems to be going crazy."

            "Oh, so now I'm crazy? Is that what you're saying?!" She certainly looked it. She stalked towards him, eyes burning. "Do you know what that pathetic old fool, Pepper, _did to me? I've been suspended from my job, from my LIFE, just because __once I spoke my mind around him. Once I didn't simper and pretend to be as feeble as the rest of you useless clods. __Once I acted like myself!"_

            "Whoa, Delia. Take it easy…"

            "No I won't take it easy!" She shoved a finger at his chest, still advancing, forcing him back a couple of paces. "And now you, the general's favorite little stooge, you're poking around about my last mission. What, does he think I _lied to him about it? He does, doesn't he? He told you to harass me because he thinks I'm a turncoat. That I can't be trusted. Well, IT'S NOT TRUE, DAMMIT!!" Delia shoved him hard and then whirled away, furious tears streaming down her face. "I've devoted my soul to this job and now everybody's turning on me. You're all against me!"_

            Bill tried again. "No, we're no…"

            "Oh, get out!" She flung an arm out, pointing towards the door. Her tail switched violently. He didn't move. "GET OUT!!!"

            Bill studied Delia for a moment, taking in her wild fixated eyes, thrashing tail, iron stiff spine, and lastly the tears still streaming down her face. He turned and left without a word. The sound of her table smashing to bits followed him out, along with a frustrated screech. 

            Once outside her office he leaned against the corridor wall, emotionally drained. He'd barely gotten a word in edgewise that entire conversation, but had found what he needed to know. Delia was out of it, all right, and she had been to the nebula. 

            "Crap," he muttered. It was the only word that seemed to fit. 

            "Bill?" Mackie's concerned face loomed large in his vision. "Are you alright?"

            Bill stared at him blankly for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not."

            ***

            All was silent in the hallways when he returned to Katina. Kayote popped his head out of his office and, seeing who it was, came out.

            "Bill," he greeted. "Everything's been quiet since you left. Really quiet, in fact. Oh, and Commander Bedelle called; seemed to want to speak with you quite urgently." His report done, the coyote stood almost at attention, aware that something serious was going on.

            "Which one?" 

            "Jacob." 

            Bill nodded. "Oh, okay. I'll get in touch with him. Wow. This day's turning into the meeting of the commanders, isn't it." 

            Kayote caught up with him as he started to stride down the hall. "Hey. Out of curiosity, you wouldn't happen to want to tell me what's going on, would you?"

            "Not particularly, no." 

            The other sighed. "I was afraid of that. No hope that if I bug you enough you'll tell me anyway?"

            The commander rolled his eyes. "Kayote, if I told you the story'd be all around the base in under ten minutes."

            "Yeah. So?"

            "Go back to your office, Kay'" 

            "Fine, but I expect to be consulted at some point." His friend pointed a finger at him in emphasis. "I mean, you don't just promote someone to Lieutenant Commander, temporarily or not, and then not give them any information on why. You just don't do that." 

            "Duly noted." Bill opened the door to his office, stepped in, and turned around. "Well, bye." He closed the door. Terrific. He'd have to tell Kayote something fairly soon, which meant he had to figure out what was going on himself. Because right now he barely had more of a clue than the coyote did. Bill shook himself out of his thoughts. First things first. He went over to his phone and dialed the twelve-digit number required to send a signal to the far off planet of Titania. There was a click as the phone picked up. 

            "Jacob."

            "Jake? Hi. It's Bill. I…"

            "Bill? Thank God. You aren't crazy, are you?"

            Bill paused, and then smiled. "Well…we don't need to go into that right now." Then he sobered. "Why? Did you expect me to be?"

            "Well, you sound like Bill. Sorry, it's just that everyone I've tried to talk to lately has…pretty much bitten my head off." 

            "You too? Man, I was starting to think I was just ticking people off." 

            "You're telling me. _Richard spazzed out at me a few hours ago. Richard! My own brother threatened to fly all the way to Titania just for the pleasure of shooting me. I hate to say it, Bill, but he didn't sound quite right in the head. I'm worried about him."_

            "Believe me, I know the feeling." Jacob and Richard Bedelle were twin kit foxes that commanded, respectively, Titania and one of the main Cornerian bases. They were both upbeat gregarious people, and were generally considered to be indissoluble. Bill felt that sinking feeling in his gut again. "You're telling me Richard's lost it? Let me guess. He's acting like a complete bastard, and no one knows why. He's lost his sense of humor and maybe has developed a slight twitch around his right eye. Am I getting the picture here?"

            "Getting it? You could have painted it. You know, I would have said he was just having a bad day, but Tyler's been acting the same way. I had to have Phen take over for him as Lieutenant Commander because he pulled his gun on one of the new recruits." There was a pause. "I take it you've been having similar problems?"

            "With Effy, yeah. And Delia's taken a turn for the loopy too."

            "How can you tell with Delia?"

            "Oh believe me. You could tell." 

            Silence fell for a moment. When Jacob spoke again his voice was subdued. "At least four people have been stricken with this…whatever it is. That can't be an accident. Something sinister's going on."

            "Yeah? Like what? Is the magical jerk fairy visiting people's bedsides?" Jacob didn't reply and the joke fell flat. Bill felt a prickle run up his spine. "Wait a minute," he said. "You don't think the Androssians are behind this, do you?"

            "I think it's a possibility."

            "But why? And…and how? How could they possibly be doing it? 

            "I don't know." The fox sighed. "I just don't know. It's just a theory, anyway. I'm glad you're not nuts, Bill."

            Bill frowned. The other sounded suddenly weary, as if he didn't care to think about it anymore. "We have to figure this out, Jacob. Don't fade on me there, bud. Maybe between you and me we'll be able to figure out what's happening and fix up our friends, eh?"

            "I suppose." Jacob sounded doubtful. His voice firmed. "All right. If the Androssians _are behind this, then there's got to be some concrete way they're affecting people. But how?" _

            "Hmm. That I think I do know. Both Effy and Delia went on a mission to the X nebula shortly before they went mental. Now that, to me, is saying pattern. Were Ty and Richard anywhere around there?"

            The other commander thought for a moment. "Tyler was on a supervising check of the outposts near our space. That would have brought him right by the nebula. I don't know about Rich, though."

            "He probably was. Okay, so it's definitely a pattern."

            "I could go check out that area," Jacob offered. "And see if I can find anything suspicious."

            "No, don't!" Bill straightened unconsciously. "Whatever you do, stay as far away from the X as possible. If there is something there, then the last thing we need is for you to freak too. 

            "But how are we supposed to figure anything out if we can't investigate?"

            "We're just going to have to find another way to put the pieces together. I'll keep in touch if I find out anything else."

            "Right. Same here. I'll let you know. Well, see you, Bill."

            "Bye Jacob." Bill hung up. Before he had time to think, however, his door flew open. 

            "Bill, I, like, really need to talk to you, and stuff, because I'm, like, really tweaked off right now and I think you can do something about it because…it's just not fair."

            He blinked up at the pink clad bundle of energy in front of him. "Gabby," he greeted. "Um…what's going on?"

             "Phil, like, dropped a pen on the floor and I stepped on it and it exploded, and there's, like, ink everywhere. It stained into the carpet, and stuff, and, like, got everywhere, and that's just, like, really annoying."

            Bill stared for a moment. "Okay, so why don't you just call the janitor and, I don't know, ask him to clean it up?"

            "Yeah, but that's, like, the part that's not fair. 'Cause you see, I'll get blamed for it! He'll think that I did it, and stuff, if I call him and then, like, all the janitors will think I'm a slob, or something. And I'm not, because it was Phil who dropped the pen, not me. I mean, yeah, I was the one who stepped on it, but I couldn't have stepped on it if he, like, hadn't dropped it in the first place, and from a height of, like, seven feet too, so the pen couldn't be in good shape anyway, and was probably, like, half destroyed already. So you see it really wasn't my fault at all." 

            He couldn't believe his ears. "So now you're mad at Phil for being ungodly tall?"

            "Well…yeah. And you are too! I hate you."

            "Gabby, why are you getting so upset about this. It was just a pen."

            The rabbit fidgeted. "Yeah, but…the ink went everywhere, and…oh, never mind! You're never any help!"  And with that she turned and raced out the door.

            Bill looked after her in astonishment. His ears were perked in confusion. "Well, that was…really odd." 

            ***

Note: So, how 'yas like it? You'll just hafta review then I suppose… WON'T YOU?!!! *thinks* I like bagels. 


	7. The Missive

_Disclaimer: You probably know the drill by now, but just to be able to say that I did this…*ahem* yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda… And then some. There! Enjoy! (pssst, and don't forget to REVIEW!) _

**Chapter 7: _The Missive_**

****

****Leon Powalski left the Stocks in a cheerful mood, actually whistling a snatch of tune as he walked over to the sink to wash the blood off his hands. The soap and water mixed to make frothy pink patterns that ran down the drain and away. Everything was going well. Marvelously so, in fact. His latest 'guest' had been a wealth of information on many topics, but most important to the chameleon's mind was one small tidbit that most people would have overlooked as irrelevant. A name. A simple little name mentioned amid a flow of words wrenched from their owner's soul. This would make Andross happy, and move their plans along quite nicely. Still chuckling to himself he walked out of the torture chamber's anteroom and headed for Star Wolf's communal common room, his spirits high. 

            When he entered his attention was immediately accosted by the sight of Andrew and Pigma huddled together by one of the large, paneled walls, peering down at something grasped in Pigma's large, grubby hands. 

            "So what do we do with it?" Andrew asked in a loud, shrill voice. 

            "What do you do with what?" Leon asked, walking over, and they both jumped. "What, exactly, are you two looking at?" 

            Pigma scratched his nose and looked up at him. "Guess what we got?" he asked, and then immediately answered his own question. "A message from the Minuen Republic, can you believe that? What are those pathetic shmucks doin' writing us? An' what it says! What, do they think they're actually important, or somethin'?"

            "The Minuens," Leon echoed, and snatched the paper out of the pig's hand. "Let me see that!"  His eyes skipped across the page spasmodically, then backtracked for a second, more careful reading. Pigma kept on talking, oblivious. 

            "I mean, come on! They're tryin' to tell us, _the Venomians, what to do. When to attack, what strategy to use. Do they think they're so big?"_

            "The Minuen Republic," Leon murmured to himself. "So they're a republic now." He seemed to become aware of Pigma's words for the first time and shook his head, tapping part of the letter. "No. You're missing the point, swine. They have a list here of Lylatian officers of high denomination who have been removed from duty. They have a spy ring, apparently. It shouldn't be too hard to verify this information with our own."

            "Yeah? So what?" Andrew asked, craning his neck to look at the missive. He gave a snickering laugh. "Removed from duty, huh? What's the matter, couldn't they handle the pressure?" He shook his head. "Buncha pansies." 

            Leon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "The point being," he said slowly, articulating every word. "That if the Lylatians have lost so many people in such a short time, their infrastructure will be weakened, and a swift, forceful attack should crush them. That is no doubt why the Minuens saw fit to inform us of this frailty." 

            "Well…well…" Pigma snuffled. The lizard waited for him to work it out, a half smile on his face. "Then we can kill them if we attack now?" 

            "Precisely." Leon looked at the paper one more time, his expression unreadable, then abruptly folded it up again and handed it to Pigma. "But the information is probably false," he said dismissively. "We don't know why such a little _republic," he sneered the word. "Would be helping us. Most likely it's some sort of trick." _

            Pigma stared at the letter. "But…"

            Andrew beat him to the punch. "But if we can destroy the Lylatians, why don't we go for it?"

            Leon stared down his very long nose at him. This was quite a talent as the ape was several inches taller than he was. "I wouldn't expect your tiny, primate brain to understand."

            "No, he's right," Pigma argued. "I'm tellin' Wolf about this."

            Leon shrugged, unconcerned. "Fine. Be my guest."  He walked lazily over to one of the couches littering the walls and sat down as his two housemates hurried out. Idly he picked up a deck of cards and began dealing out a game of solitaire. Then he stopped in disgust, holding up the King of Clubs. There were large grease stains covering a good half of it that still glistened slimily in the light. 

            "Oh, Pigma, you gigantic pig," he muttered. "Not that that's not being redundant. Maybe I'll just read until Wolf gets here in a tirade." He didn't have to. Just as he was dropping the playing card gingerly back on top of the others the door slammed open and Wolf O'Donnell burst into the room, flanked on either side by the disgusting duo. 

            "Leon, why didn't you tell me about this?!" Wolf thundered, gesticulating wildly with the letter clutched in one fist. His right eye glinted with anger far beyond what was warranted and his ears twitched violently. Not many people would be brave enough to face the enraged O'Donnell, but Leon rose without a flinch.

            "I beg your pardon?" he asked smoothly. As always, his flawless poise seemed to throw Wolf for a loop, and the craze faded slightly from his eyes. He was still very angry, however. 

            "This letter. From the Min…whoever they are. Pigma says he told you about it and you wanted to hide it from me!"

            This time the chameleon didn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Pigma told you that?" he asked. "And tell me, since when has Dengar been a reliable source of information? I mean, come on. He's a pig. I wasn't hiding _anything from you." _

            Wolf looked down at the letter in his hands, his expression flickering. Faint confusion vied with the anger on his face. Leon saw this and he smirked. "There are a few things about that letter I'd like to discuss…err, shall we say, away from the moronic crowd? If that's all right. No offense, but I can feel my IQ dropping every time I'm trapped in a room with these two for more than five minutes." He jerked a thumb at Pigma and Andrew.

            The wolf flicked his gaze to his entourage and curled his lips in a sneer. "I know exactly what you mean," he agreed. "Alright. Let's go." Anger completely forgotten he strode across the room and flung open one of the attaching doors. Throwing a snide look over his shoulder, Leon followed. 

            Pigma stared after them in irritation. "Man, I hate being treated like an idiot."

            Andrew blinked up from cleaning his fingernails. "What?"

            ***

            Leon flicked his gaze around absently. Wolf's room was, as always, a complete and utter mess. Clothes were flung this way and that and the bed lay rumpled and unmade against the far wall. The lizard felt a faint disdainful sneer form on his face. He hated messes. Forcing it away again he picked his away across the room and cleared a chair off, sitting on it. 

            "You've no doubt noticed a few things odd about our precious letter," he began the conversation.

            "Mm," Wolf agreed. "Why would these people send us anything when they barely know us and we don't like them."

            Leon shot him a startled look and sat up a little straighter. "Exactly, and…"

            "And how did they get their hands on this information? And why would they try to help us against the Cornerians when it gains them nothing to do so?" 

            "Exactly," Leon agreed again, watching Wolf through half-slitted eyes. "I knew you'd pick up on that." 

            Wolf started pacing, thinking aloud as he did so. "Well, as for the second question, it's obvious. They have an information network. They've been spying on us." He made a swift cutting gesture with one hand and a growl formed in his throat. 

            "Which only makes sense," the chameleon pointed out. "If I were neighbor to two mighty nations at war, I'd make damn sure I knew what they were doing, too." 

            The lupine nodded absently at this, conceding the point. His anger fled again. "But how does it gain them to help the 'mighty nation'?" he asked, parroting Leon's words. He turned to face the other.

            Leon considered for a moment. "They might be trying to cut a deal," he said thoughtfully. "Help us out with the information in exchange for leniency when we take over the Lylat System. They're only one solar system away, after all."

            "Why us and not the Cornerians, then?"

            "Oh Wolf, honestly. That's the most obvious answer of them all. They hate the Cornerians. Those so-called 'moral people' have been short changing the Minuens for years with their commerce agreements; demanding exorbitant fees for exports and flooding the Minuen economy with a surplus of imports so that local entrepreneurs can't catch a break. The Minuens are living in poverty because of the Cornerians. They wouldn't help _them." _

            Wolf was staring at him. "I didn't know all that," he said slowly. With a suspicious twinge he added, "Why do you?"

            The chameleon stared at him for a moment, and then gave a nonchalant shrug. "Oh. Politics is something of a hobby of mine. I've read up on all the surrounding area's situations. The point is that they probably would be willing to help us just to spite the Cornerians. Their motive really isn't as mysterious as we thought it was. I think this plan will work. We should show the letter to Andross and push for an early invasion. It would be the most expedient way to get the battles started." He added this last with a sly look at his commander. Everyone knew how much the wolf loved getting in the middle of a slaughter. 

            Wolf stared at him for a moment more. Then his gaze fell to the paper in his hands. Once again he seemed to have forgotten his thoughts of a moment before in favor of the new ones Leon had fed him. "That would be good," he agreed. "It would mean abandoning our current plot," he added, frowning..

            "It would. But if it works it will be much faster. Years faster."

            The lupine thought about that pensively for a moment, and then nodded. "All right, then. I'll inform Dr. Andross and convince him to change our plans."

            "Do you think you'll be able to?"

            "Yes," he answered shortly. "Definitely. Andross is as impatient as the rest of us with how slow things are going."

            Leon nodded and stood up. "Good." He glanced down briefly, and then frowned, touching the front of his shirt with a ginger hand. There was blood drying on it, dark maroon splotches streaking the fabric. "Oh. Disgusting. I think while you're doing that I'll be changing my clothes."

            Wolf observed the other's revulsion with amusement. "You were 'working' this morning, I take it."

            "Yes. It's quite fun, but unfortunately it _does do a number on one's wardrobe. If you'll excuse me." Shaking his head and being very careful not to touch his shirt again, Leon left the room._

            Wolf glanced at the letter, and then he also left.

            ***

            Plans were made, strategies organized, and troops informed. By nightfall everything was set. The Androssians were mobilizing. But inside the elite barracks something odd was happening. A grey shadow stalked through the dimly lit steel halls. It slipped out of the Star Wolf common room and scuttled along passageways as dim as it was, traveling at last to an abandoned control room that had been left bereft by its owner in the sudden bustle. The door clicked shut and was locked from the inside.

            Leon Powalski pushed down the hood of his nondescript jacket and smiled slightly, holding one arm to look at it. The skin glistened in the muted overhead lighting, a shady slate. "Ah, the life of a chameleon," he murmured to himself. "It makes getting around…so much easier."  Still smirking, he stepped over to one of the massive computers that made a row along one whole wall of the control room, and bent over it, punching in some numbers. The machine emitted a faint buzzing sound, and then a click. Satisfied that his conversation would remain private, the lizard turned on the videophone built into it and dialed.

            Someone answered. The picture that appeared on the foot square-screen was of a banded tabby cat wearing a guard's uniform. "Minuen State Security offices," he said in a bored tone. "This is Zawkmed speaking. How may I help you?"

            "Oh. They changed the offices," Leon sighed and stepped closer, making himself visible to the built in camera in the phone. "Yes. Hello. I was trying to get in touch with someone with some degree of power." He let his natural disdain creep into his voice. "Not a guard."

            Zawkmed heard it and his manner became more brisk. "Well, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with me. What is your complaint, sir?"

            "I don't have a complaint. I have a proposition." Leon leaned forward, a haughty twitch on his lips. "I am Leon Powalski, Second in Command of the Star Wolf elite fighting team. I work," he added lazily. "For the Androssians." 

            The cat's eyes widened. "The Androssians," he said incredulously, and not a little breathlessly. "Why are you calling here?"

            "I told you that. I want to talk to someone in a position of power about the…shall we say, 'suggestion' that you people sent to us?"

            Zawkmed stared at him blankly. "Suggestion?"

            The disdain grew more pronounced, and with it the sarcasm. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you actually knew something. I didn't realize you were just a pointless stooge. Can I possibly talk to someone who _does have a clue as to what's going on? Tell whoever it is who's in charge over there who I am…and who I work for. I'm sure they'll be glad to take the call then."_

            There was a pause. The security guard nodded. "Alright. What did you say your name was again? Powalski? I'll let them know. Stay on the line." The screen dissolved into static and a faint tinny music drifted through the speakers. He was on hold. Leon rolled his eyes and sat back, crossing his arms. This could take awhile. 

            About ten tedious, music filled minutes later the phone screen flickered to life again. This time the visage that greeted his eyes was of a distinguished bobcat in a rumpled business suit and tie. He looked tired. He eyed Leon sharply, however, and his mouth was set in a thin line.

            "Mr. Powalski," he said, and was unable or unwilling to hide the distaste in his voice. "To what do I owe this distinct…honor." 

            "That depends," Leon replied coolly. "Who am I talking to?"

            The bobcat drew himself up slightly. "I am Warren Slater," he said formally. "Elected President of the Minuen Republic." 

            "Really. President, eh? Well, that's different."

            "Quite," Warren agreed curtly. "I'm sure it is very different from the last time you had contact here." The lizard smiled thinly in acknowledgement of the riposte, his eyes glittering coldly. The other went on. "Now if you'll forgive me for being brusque, what, precisely, do you want?" 

             Leon made a sharp motion with one hand. "Oh come on, Slater, we both know what's going on here. Sending that letter? How stupid do you think I am? You might be able to pass yourselves off as the pathetic, weakling kingdom to everybody else in this solar system, but I know how…tricky you people really are. You're not just helping us out of the goodness of your hearts, and hoping we'll extend a hand to you later. You're planning something."

            "I was not aware that you had made connections with the Androssians."

            "No," Leon agreed, amused. "I imagine not. I could warn them, you know. I haven't yet, but it would be a simple matter to do so. And then your house of cards would fall like so much fluttering paper." 

            He wasn't sure, but he thought Warren started sweating. It was very dim lighting. "I see," he said. "And what would it take to convince you not to do that? If you want your pronouncement of banishment to be lifted…" he stopped to think. "No. I'm not sure I can do that. The things you did…" Warren shook his head. "I'm trying to build a better nation for my people. There's no place for people like you in a such a world." The words _people like you were twisted and harsh sounding. Leon, however, waved him off._

            "Don't bother. I rather like the Lylat system better. But the question is, will I still like it once the Minuens have taken over? That is what you're planning, isn't it? Set both sides against each other, and then move in to sweep up the pieces?"

            Warren gazed at him for a long moment. "My plans are none of your concern," he said finally. The bobcat's ears were low on his head, but he seemed to be rallying some composure. He spoke again. "Even if you were to speak you suspicions to your superiors, there is no guarantee that they would believe you. And how would you go about doing it? Would you first explain that you know us so very well because you were a member of our society? Would you account, in detail, how you were discovered, and banished, for crimes so atrocious that I will not even speak them aloud? Will you tell them what those crimes were? Tell me, how justly would they think your motives then?" Warren sat back satisfied. "You can't say a word." 

            "You'd be surprised," Leon said. "You don't know the people I work with. They might just applaud my, how did you put it, 'atrocious crimes'. But you seem to have gotten the idea somehow that I was threatening you. I assure you, that was not the case. Or not _just the case. As I said to your lackey before, I have a proposition for you."_

            "Indeed? Well, let's hear it then."

            "If I am correct, you plan on allowing the Androssians and Cornerians on destroying each other, true? But I'm telling you now that that won't happen. We are…too strong. The troops have absolute, almost fanatical, loyalty to Andross and everything he represents. As long as he's around the army will keep marching; the Androssians will stand."

            "What's your point?" 

            Leon leaned close to the phone and smirked at the picture of Warren. The bobcat was wary, but listening. "If you swear me immunity, and grant certain luxuries and privileges when you take over," he said. "I will give you Andross's head." 

            ***

            The computer beeped attention, signaling that its search was at an end. Text appeared on its flat screen in the form of old newspaper clippings, pictures and headlines springing to life. Alec Secorski turned away from the form he had been filling out and eagerly leaned over the keyboard. 

            "Hm," he muttered. "No help there." He pressed a few buttons and another window opened up, showing a different newspaper clipping. He shook his head disappointedly. "Stocks… Damn it." The search was proving to be a frustrating one, but the serval continued with a desperate determination. "Man. What, was he a priest in his early years or something? He had to have done _something wrong."  Yet another page appeared. The headline boldly announced ****__Warren Slater for President: A Step in the Right Direction. Alec leaned forward and read:_

"Warren Slater, one of the main revolutionist party leaders, was yesterday appointed President of Minua after his key role in the deposition of our former leader, Douglass Carrington. Carrington, as many know, was one of the worst tyrannical dictators in all Minuen history. His atrocious disciplinary programs and power grubbing policies shot fear into the hearts of the citizens and plunged our nation's already shaky economy on the fast track to meltdown. With his arrest and subsequent sentencing a new order was established and Slater was universally voted into office out of gratitude for bringing this criminal to justice…Man, who wrote this thing? It sounds like a prelude to a Superman comic." He sighed and scrolled down the screen. "Come on. There's got to be something in here. Marcus, where are you?" He saw the name he was looking for and stopped scrolling. "Marcus Cade. Now, where are we… Slater had the help, of course, of many of his fellow party members. Joseph Hawkings, Alec Secorski…Oh, I actually get a mention, you mean? …and Marcus Cade were three of his main supporters during the revolution and two of these men work for him still in advisory positions. Hawkings, unfortunately…yeah, yeah, yeah. We know. He got shot in the fighting. Who cares? He was an asshole anyway." His eyes traveled back to the previous sentence. "Not a word on that conniving panther anywhere except to say he was there. Dammit, there's GOT to be _something! I'll frame him if I have to. __ANYTHING to get rid of him."_

            There was an imperious knock on the door and a second later it slammed open. Alec scrambled to shut down his computer before the unwanted interloper could see the documents it showed. "**WHAT?!**" he bellowed, twisting around with catlike reflexes. Doctor Bellec stood in the doorway, staring at the other's blank monitor screen with his mouth twisted, as if gazing at it could reveal what the serval was hiding.

            "Can't you knock?!" Alec snapped reflexively, and then stopped himself. _Don't act suspicious. If he __were going to frame someone it wouldn't do to give himself away. With great difficulty Alec managed to reign in his temper. "What did you want?" he grated out, barely keeping an even voice. _

            Zachariah swung his gaze away from the computer at last and stared through his large, coke-bottle glasses. "Zere's a problem with ze machine," he said shortly. "I vent to Slater's office, but that airhead of a secretary said he vasn't in."

            The other scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly tired. "No. He's out on an inspection of something or other. The I-83, I think."

            The weasel snorted disgust at all things military, but otherwise made no reply.

            Alec paused, and then said, "I could let him know you'd been by. 'Course that would mean that you'd have to _leave…"_

            "No. Zere may be no time. Or less time zan I had originally thought. I don't know. You must come." He raised his long eyebrows. "_Now."_

            The serval blinked at him, sent one wayward glance over his shoulder to the darkened computer, and then nodded. "Alright," he said, and with a great sigh stood up. 

            The short fisher-cat led him out of his office and down the elevator to the ground floor. They left the capitol building and struck off through the city in what Alec was disgusted to note was a drizzling rain. Luckily, it didn't take long to get to Bellec's laboratory. It was a squat square building that, despite the weasel's slim physique, seemed to match its owner exactly. Zachariah took no notice of the rain, but simply hurried through the low doorway, the sodden cat trailing after him.

            "You could have at least warned me it was raining," Alec said in a disgruntled tone. 

            Bellec glanced around at him without slowing his stride. "Zere vas no time. Hurry up." He disappeared through another doorway.

            Alec stared after him disbelievingly. "There was no time to tell me _it was raining?! I don't believe this guy." Shaking his head, he followed. _

            Two steps past the threshold he stopped dead. This was unmistakably the doctor's main working space. A huge square box of metal took up one whole wall of space, beeping reminder of its existence every three seconds or so, as if anyone could miss it. Screens built into its side flashed pictures at the unwary viewer, boggling the mind, or scrolled numbers down their surfaces at high speeds. Though this monolith drew the eye at once, the rest of the room was certainly not bare. Other machines, as well as things that could only be described as 'gizmos', were scattered throughout the space, littering the walls, and propping up against each other on the floor haphazardly. The overall effect was that the room was separated into squares, with only a few walkways of uncluttered space allowing free movement. But that wasn't what the serval was glaring at so fixedly. Marcus Cade was standing in what was roughly equivalent to the center of the room, examining one of the metal monstrosities with placid interest. He looked up with a pleasant smile as they entered. 

            "Hello," he said mildly. 

            If he was trying to win Alec over with politeness, he was fighting a losing battle. "What are you doing here?!" the other said rudely.

            The panther blinked in faint astonishment. "Beg pardon?"

            "What are you doing here?" Alec demanded again, slitting suspicious eyes. "Making the rounds?"

            Marcus shook his head, glanced at Bellec, and then looked back at the serval. "Doctor Bellec asked me to come," he said. "Something about a glitch with the Erida Device."

            "Oh, and he just happened to run into you in the hallway, I suppose."

            "As a matter of fact, yes."

            "That's funny. Why didn't he mention it to me, then?"

            "Zere vas no time," the weasel spoke up, thrusting himself into the conversation. "I did run into zis stooge before, and zen vent to find Slater."

            "You see?" Marcus said soothingly to Alec. "You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I don't think being wet agrees with you."

            Alec ignored the half-amused comment with a snide air. It was obvious the panther had scored a point. He started to walk forward stiffly. Then he paused. "When did it start raining?" he asked. 

            The other two exchanged glances. Bellec shrugged. "About an hour ago. Vhy? Are you taking barometer measurements now? You talk of unimportant zings.  Vhat is important is **zis**!" He turned and threaded his way through his instruments to the large square machine at the side, jabbing a finger at one of the flashing screens. Both cats picked their way over to join him. They looked at the screen. Bellec looked at the screen. Silence reigned for a long moment. 

            Alec spoke up first. His brow was deeply furrowed. "Um…just out of curiosity's sake, what are we looking at?" To him the picture seemed a jumbled mess of lines. They spiked around one another in a shameful disregard for order, and occasionally spasmed out of sight entirely. They reminded him of the room he was in, or perhaps of the nonconformist little man beside him.             

            Dr. Bellec seemed to think the question foolishly obvious. "Zat. Zat!" he exclaimed and gestured violently towards the lines on the lighted surface. Alec stared at them again, but they still simply looked like a mathematician's nightmare to his eyes. 

            "What I think Alec means is what do they stand for," Marcus clarified. He sounded like an interested spectator trying to soothe two quarreling fools. Alec shot a sizzling glare at him.

            "Did I ask you to translate?" 

            "No," Marcus said, completely unperturbed by the other's scathing tone. 

            "Then don't."

            "_Vhat it means is zat the device is acting abnormally. You see zis, here?" The weasel pointed at one of the lines that disappeared. "Zey are not supposed to do zat. Zis is a power readout of Erida's influence. She should not be doing so much so quickly."_

            Marcus bit his lip and frowned down at the screen. "What do you mean? What's the problem?" He quirked an eyebrow. "If the machine is 'working overtime', as it were, wouldn't that just mean that the Lylatians would be affected more quickly?"

            "Yes. So you see the problem."

            "Ah…I'm afraid not. Why is that a bad thing?" 

            Bellec rolled his eyes. "Moron," he muttered under his breath. He looked at Marcus with the air of someone explaining something very simple, and spoke. "For two reasons. Firstly, It vill effect the Lylatians more quickly, true, making zem more aggressive and less able to function effectively. But zis vill only happen to those who are _nearby ze X nebula, for zey will be ze ones absorbing Erida's rays. Ze planets that are closest, vhat are they called…"_

            "Fortuna and Katina," Alec murmured. "And Titania." He received a glare for his trouble as the fishercat went on.

            "…vill be ze main recipients. But the machine vill not affect ze Androssians at all. Zey are too far away at zis time."

            "Oh, I get it," Alec broke in again. He straightened unconsciously as the connotations of the lecture struck. "So the Cornerians will be wounded, but the Androssians won't…and we sent a letter telling them to attack." He shook his head. "All we've done is won the war for them. Terrific. Instead of having bad neighbors we'll have terrible neighbors." 

            Marcus rolled his eyes. "Alec, relax. It isn't as serious as all that yet. Go on, doctor."

            Bellec shot a sneer at the serval. "Zank you. But your offensive friend is right. As zings stand now zere is an imbalance. Ze plan vas to hurt both sides and become ze most dominant force, but zat has not happened."

            The panther frowned, still thinking. "Why did this happen?" he asked. 

            "Ze nebula's gravity. It is so strong it is almost a black hole. Ze machine is collapsing in on herself more quickly zan we had planned. Zat is ze second problem. It vill probably be around for only a few more days."

            Alec shook his head. "That's it. The plan's a flop. I knew it! I knew it wouldn't work. I've been saying from the beginning that it wouldn't work." He made a disgusted noise. "All this time and effort spent for nothing. And on top of it all, _now we have to figure out a way of STOPPING the Androssians from attacking, before they invade and make everything worse."_

            The panther was shaking his head. "It's not as bad as all that…"

            "Not as bad as all that!" the other repeated heatedly. "You bet it is! Everything's crashing down around our ears, just because your _good doctor couldn't get his part right. Freak," he added for good measure, glancing at Bellec. The weasel narrowed his eyes and pinned his ears back, but didn't say anything._

            Marcus raised a hand. "Listen to me! Everything is _not ruined. We can still get around this."_

            "Yeah? How? We're no match for the Venomian Army. You know that. That's why we were using that stupid machine in the first place."

            "I know, but we still have our wits." The panther shook his head, dismissive. "Your problem, Alec, is that you think in straight lines. The Venomians don't _know anything. We're leading them around by the nose. We can manipulate them into losing."_

            The serval snorted. "And your problem, _Cade, is that you think too much in circles. __How can we manipulate them? They don't know us. We can only send so many anonymous messages."_

            "We can work it out," Marcus insisted. "We've gone too far to be able to scrap everything, now."

            "I disagree." 

            "Gentlemen," Zachariah cut in. "As fascinating as your pointless bickering is, I vould really prefer it to happen _outside my laboratory. You are giving me a headache. And some of you…" He shot a sizzling glare at Alec. "…dumb down a place by zeir mere presence. Keep ze plan, scrap ze plan; it makes no difference to me."_

            Marcus caught Alec's eyes. "It's Warren's decision," he said quietly. "We should settle this in front of him."

            The serval nodded slowly, still angry. "You bet we will." 

            ***

            Warren opened the door to his dark office and treaded heavily inside, sitting down with a thump in his chair. "There's always something," he said to himself. The bobcat swiveled around to look out the large window behind his desk, once again surveying the planets he was responsible for. Malenkee and Bolshoi floated in the night, twin planets as opposite in color and environment as they were parallel in inhospitality. They glittered in the starlight like two forsaken jewels. 

            A knock came at the door, and Warren let out a deep sigh. "Come in," he called. It was time to go back to the grindstone. He heard the sound of the door open and shut, and turned to see who it was. Then he blinked. "Alec?"

            The serval nodded, subdued, and then frowned at the look of amazement on the other's face. "Yeah. What?"

            "You knocked."

            The blonde glanced at the floor and shuffled his feet. Warren could almost swear he was blushing. "Yeah, well. I finally realized how annoying that was." 

            "Amazing." The bobcat straightened, ready for whatever new problem his aide had to dish out, but none came. The serval walked forward silently, not bothering to turn on a light, and came to a stop before the great windows. He stared out quietly for a moment, deep in contemplation. 

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" he said at last. 

Warren turned and once again studied the planets. "Yes, they are."

Alec sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Do you ever remember why we're doing this?" he asked. "I mean, why us?"

"There was no one else." 

"I know. But we've changed." He walked over to the desk and perched on it, looking the other frankly in the eyes. "The job's changed us."

Warren nodded slowly. "I know." He paused, and then smiled slightly, lost in memories. "There was a time when we were ready to take on the world."

"And freely did so," Alec agreed, also smiling. "Dictator government? Pfhh. Too easy. We were going to solve all our people's woes. You and me against the world." 

"Mmm," Warren agreed. "The very best of friends." The smile slipped off his face, and when he spoke again a heaviness had entered his voice. "But that _is why we are doing this." _

"What, because we were the best of friends?" Alec quipped.

"All our people's woes," the bobcat said, ignoring the joke. "I still believe the ideal, Alec. It is my duty to do everything I can to lift the sorrow, to make a better world in which our children can grow up."

"Yeah. That's an ideal, alright." 

Warren gazed at him sharply. "You believed in it too, once."

Alec sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "True," he agreed. "And I still do. In theory. But in practice…the concept loses much of its glamour."

"The burden of responsibility grows harder to bear every day," Warren agreed.

"Right. And what if we can't deliver? What will the people think of their great saviors then? We'll have failed them." He stared off into space. "We _have failed them."_

"Nonsense. Don't be so gloomy, my friend. It's not like you." Warren paused and smiled. "Actually, it's far too like you. You always were a pessimist. We haven't failed anything yet. The Erida plan will work, and we will be able to give them everything the lush Lylat System has to offer."

Alec shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "We won't." He closed his eyes for a moment, sorrow shading his face. "Where have you been?" he asked without opening them.

Warren had been staring at him curiously, wondering about that last comment. Now he made a disgusted noise and sat back in his chair, folding his hands over each other. "I went to inspect the I-83," he said. "The power main on the prototype failed. It's repaired now, thankfully, and she's ready to fly, but it's the reason that disgusts me. The tech people tell me it was sabotage. I've had to assign a guard to it twenty-four seven." The bobcat stared at his hands in consternation. "I simply don't believe that one of our own people would stoop to such a thing."

"Sabotage?" Alec's eyes had popped open and he stared at the other with something akin to horror. Then they narrowed to slits. "Marcus," he hissed.

"Marcus," Warren said, startled. "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Of course. He must have…to get you out of the way. I KNEW he had been there too long!"

"Alec," Warren said patiently. "Will you kindly explain yourself?" 

Alec turned to face him more fully. His face wore an excited look that bordered on the fanatical. "Look," he said. "I know you won't want to believe me, because you think Marcus hung the stars in the sky, but you have to trust me on this. _Marcus is the one who cannot be trusted here." The bobcat opened his mouth to reply and the other waved him off, still talking. "Look. When Bellec strong-armed me to his lab Marcus was already there, waiting. Now he __said The Weirdo met him in the hallway and told him to come, but then how did he know where The Weirdo's lab was? And it was raining, for an hour at least they said, and yet Marcus's fur __was completely dry. There's no WAY he got there just before I did. He's probably paying Bellec off to give him information first, and who knows what else. And THAT means we can't trust anything Bellec says either, 'cause Marcus could have told him to lie. That conniving little panther must have sabotaged the I-83 himself to get you out of the way long enough to out-argue me." He paused and shook his head. "He knew, given time to prepare, he could convince you of everything. He's done it often enough. My opinion counts for shit when he's talking to you. But he was afraid that if we both found out about the problem at the same time there'd be enough common sense in the room to cancel the plan. DAMMIT!"_

Warren had gone stiff. "Are you quite finished?" He inquired coldly.

Alec blinked at him in realization. "Oh, come on, Warren. You've got to believe me!"

"Believe you? Based on a crock of circumstantial evidence and a hatred that's gone back to the very _day Marcus joined our cause?" He shook his head. "I can't believe you would take your jealousy this far."_

"Hey, come on. I'm not making this up…"

"I don't doubt that in your own mind you are not. But that doesn't make it true." Warren's golden eyes were narrowed and harsh. "You've gone so far into your shell of bitterness that I hardly even recognize you anymore. Marcus has done nothing, except be a true and loyal friend. Get over it." 

"Warren…"  
            "No. Get out of my office. And for God's sake, Alec, try to gain a little perspective." Warren stared at him for a second longer, and then resolutely turned away.

Alec stood there, silently fuming. He whirled, fists clenched, and stalked towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, someone knocked. The serval grabbed the handle and slammed it open. "What?!"

Marcus Cade stepped into the room, smiling slightly. "I hope I didn't come at a bad time," he said, shrugging an apology. 

"Warren swiveled back around, forcing a smile. "No. Of course not," he emphasized. "Your presence is always welcome. Is there something you needed to bring to my attention?" The bobcat motioned his chin firmly at Alec, gesturing at the door. The serval just stood there, however, with his arms crossed, seething umber eyes locked fixedly on the panther. 

Marcus glanced at him and the ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Oh, I'm surprised Alec didn't tell you. It IS a rather urgent matter of state, after all. But perhaps he had more important things on his mind."

Warren frowned. "What's urgent?"

"There's a problem with the Erida Machine," Marcus informed him. "Doctor Bellec insists that it is acting too swiftly, the net result being that the Cornerians are being affected and the Androssians are not." That said, he waited, watching as the implications sunk in.

They did and the bobcat swore loudly. "This could ruin everything," he said. As an afterthought he added. "And no. Alec didn't mention this. It must have slipped his mind among…other concerns." Once again he looked at the serval, and then pointedly at the door. The other continued to ignore it. 

"Perhaps," Marcus said, bringing Warren's mind back to the problem. "But I think we still have a good chance of pulling this off. We just have to find some way of ensuring the Androssians' defeat. Or weakening, rather. It doesn't really matter which side wins as long as they're both too hurt to defend against us." 

"And do you have any ideas of how to go about ensuring this?" 

"I think I may. I…" 

Yet another knock sounded on the door. A moment later it opened a crack, and a tabby cat stuck his capped head in. "Excuse me, sir…ah, sirs," he said, noticing the other two. "But I have a call in my office that sounds quite urgent. He's demanding to speak to you, sir," he said to Warren. "Leon Powalski by name." 

"Powalski," Warren murmured, sitting forward. "Why does that name sound familiar?" 

"I've heard it too," Alec said thoughtfully, ignoring the glare his speaking evoked. "Look it up, why don't you?"

Warren stared at him quellingly a moment longer, but as the serval looked evenly back at him and refused to be quelled, he at last dropped his gaze. "That's an idea," he admitted and leaned over his keyboard, tapping a few keys. The machine hummed for a moment, thinking, and then displayed its results. The bobcat's eyes widened. "He worked under Carrington," he reported to the room at large. "Politician. But he volunteered his services as a pilot on many of that rat's disciplinary 'purges'. Claimed he liked the thrill."

"Of killing people?" Alec said incredulously. 

Warren ignored him and read on. "He was finally banished from the solar system on pain of death when…God." He shook his head. "Mr. Powalski had been kidnapping people off the streets and torturing them to death in his basement. Apparently for the thrill," he added, his mouth twisting. "Not even Carrington would put up with him after that." He looked at the security guard. "Do I want to talk to this person, Zawkmed?"

The tabby shifted uneasily. "I don't know, sir. All I know is that he claims he works for the Androssians now." 

"The Androssians!" Warren looked down at the computer screen in front of him in absolute disgust, and then shook his head. "I can't afford not to. I'm coming." He stood up and left the room, following Zawkmed out without a glance at either of his two main aides. 

Silence reigned uncomfortably in the room for a long moment. Alec surveyed Marcus closely over his crossed arms. Finally he broke the silence. "You bribed The Weirdo, didn't you?" he said in an accusing voice. "He's your eyes and ears. Let's you know things before us, doesn't he?" The other didn't answer and Alec snorted. "Yeah. That's what I thought. I've got your number, Cade."

"Do you?" Marcus said mildly. Then he whirled and grabbed the serval by the shirt, shoving him hard against the wall. "Do you really?" The panther's face was contorted with anger now, a snarl distorting the features. "Now listen to me, you little insect. You don't know _anything, you understand? You haven't the least idea of who you're messing with."_

Alec's eyes were huge and disbelieving, and he panted for his voice. "Wh…what?"

Marcus let up his grip for a second, only to slam the other hard against the wall again and hold the slighter cat there with all his strength. Alec gasped in pain and winced as muscles seemed to bruise all over his body. 

"Yeah, that's right," the panther said forbiddingly. "Now I'm going to make this _painfully clear." Another shove. "Stay out of my business or you won't like what happens. Remember, accidents happen to everyone." _

From outside the muffled sound of Warren's voice floated to their ears and Marcus let go of him, crossing the room to stand innocently to one side. Alec scrambled to his feet just as Slater opened the door and walked into the room, practically bouncing. 

"You'll never guess what that was about," he said joyously, missing the tension in the space completely in his bliss. "Powalski is willing to sell out the Androssians utterly if we provide for him once the Lylat System is ours." He paused, thinking. "Although I can't say I think much of his ethics. And I have this vague feeling I have made a pact with the devil…" he shrugged it off. "Ah, well. It solves our very dangerous problem, at any rate. He'll topple the Androssian momentum from within and we don't have to worry about the Erida machine's malfunction. Gentlemen, we have salvaged the day." 

"That's wonderful," Marcus said, beaming. 

Alec stared at him incredulously. There was no sign now of the monster that had so briefly been revealed to him. Marcus was once again the soul of courtesy and amiability, just as before. Not even a flicker of the rage that had shortly engulfed him showed on his face. 

"But…" the serval stammered.

"Yes, quite," Warren agreed with Marcus. "That is a load off my mind." He glanced at the computer, and then quite distinctly shut it down, wiping Leon's past from its screen. "Now if you will _both excuse me, gentlemen, I have much I have to do." He looked wryly at Alec as he said this, acknowledging the other's earlier reluctance to leave._

"Of course, Mr. Slater," Marcus agreed courteously. A smug smile appeared on his face as he stepped past the serval on the way to the door, meant for Alec's eyes only. The door clicked shut behind him. 

Warren smiled good-naturedly. "Please, Alec. I know you value my company, but I really do have work to do." In light of the good news he seemed willing to forget their earlier argument. 

Alec was still staring after the panther. He turned back around and looked at his long-time friend. "Warren, Marcus just threatened to kill me," he said in a low voice.

Warren stopped smiling. "Don't start this again."

"No. He…"

"**_Alec!_** Don't."

The serval stared at the bobcat for a second. It was clear that he wasn't going to be believed. He turned and walked out. 

But as he padded to his own office slowly, one sentence kept repeating itself in his head. _Remember, accidents happen to everyone. Alec felt a sinking sensation in his gut. Frustrated helplessness twined with impotent anger and a cold chill of fear. Under the circumstances only one thing summed up his thoughts. _

"Holy…shit."

            ***

Okie-day! Another chapter finished. Lest we forget all those who died during the making of this story, flowers will be placed on the tombstones of those who truly deserve it (the ones who lent us money). Drinks and other refreshments (no matter how stale) will be served in the deserted barn behind the mayor's house. If he wakes up screaming at you, and fires his 45 shot gun at you… We are not liable. Thank you, and have a great weekend. Oh yeah! Almost forgot the point!… REVIEW! Thanks, you're so nice! 


	8. Double Dealings

_Disclaimer: I'm 'ernery the eight I am… 'enery the eighth I am I am!…_

**_Chapter 8: Double Dealings_**

****

            "So, Didi. How…how're you doing?"

            The doe turned to face Bill with a smile. "Oh, I'm just fine. How are you?"

            Bill shrugged. "Oh, I'm great, you know. The world is just great. Sunshine and daisies."

            She peered at him severely through her half-moon glasses. "Do I detect a touch of sarcasm in your tone?"

            "Um…yeah. A bit, maybe."

            She leaned over and patted his arm. "Well, don't worry. Whatever it is, it will work itself out." 

            "Thanks, Didi." 

            She frowned at him slightly and cocked her head. "You know, if you don't mind my asking, is there something you wanted? It's not that I'm not happy to talk to you, but you seem a little down and out."

            The husky shifted, faintly uncomfortable. "Well, not really, but… I guess I just wanted to check and see if you were all right. I don't know if you've noticed, but lately…"

            "…lately everyone and their uncle has been in a really bad mood. Yes. I've noticed."

            Bill smiled. "Can't get anything past you."

            "Of course not. It's part of my charm. But what's going on?"

            The commander bit his lip. "Well…"

            Just at that moment the elevator across the hall pinged open and Kayote stormed out. Bill looked up in surprise. The Brigadier Commander spent one afternoon a week supervising marching drills, he knew, and had been gone all day doing just that. Normally the coyote came back fresh and energized, encouraged by efforts of the cadets. Today, he was fuming. 

            "I don't believe them!" he burst out the minute the elevator opened enough to let him. He strode over to Didi's desk, recognizing the two figures as an audience he could rant to. "What Incompetent, Imbecilic MORONS do we have working here?!"

            Bill closed his eyes. "Oh, not Kayote," he murmured under his breath. "I need Kayote." 

            "I mean, come on!" the other raged on, oblivious. "How are we ever supposed to win against the Androssians when our soldiers can't even do an About Face properly?!"

            The husky opened his eyes. "Kayote," he said.

            "And Nicky! I'm sorry. He may be Effy's brother, but I have never seen such a sorry excuse for a cadet before in my life. He and Cody spent the entire period snickering to each other and not paying attention…"

            Bill raised his voice. "Kayote!"

            "…and then they ruined the marching drill because they couldn't be _bothered to listen long enough to learn what they were supposed to do. And it's not anything new! They never listen. Not one stinking one of those pathetic, weakling…"_

            **"Ian!"**

****Kayote stopped in mid-tirade. He looked up in astonishment at the sudden sound of his barely-used first name. He seemed to notice who his 'audience' was for the first time. 

            "Yeah, Bill?" the coyote responded. Didi was staring at him in amazement, surprised to hear such a spiel from a usually amiable person.

            The husky beckoned. "Could I speak to you in my office? Now?" He turned and headed there himself. The other blinked in confusion and followed. 

            "Yeah? What is it?" the coyote asked again the minute they were alone. His face bore a puzzled look that showed clearly that he had no idea why he had been summoned. Bill noted this and heaved a deep sigh. 

            "Sit down," he said, gesturing. He settled himself into his own chair. 

            Kayote sank down into the offered seat and quirked an eyebrow. "Am I in detention?" he quipped.

            The husky scanned his face intently. "You have no idea why you're here, do you?"

            The coyote blinked in confusion. "No."

            "Kay, what were you just doing outside in the hall?"

            "Is this a trick question? I'd come up from Drill Session." The canine scanned his commander's face and the smile slipped. "Look. I was a little frustrated. It happens. I'm sorry if I made a scene, if it's an apology you want." He blinked and frowned in dissatisfaction. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal about it, though." 

            Bill started to speak, stopped himself, and considered. "You asked me a little while ago why I'd shoved Effy's job down your throat," he said, changing the subject. Kayote sat up straight. 

            "That's right," he replied. "As I recall, you refused to explain."

            The husky nodded and looked at him with somber eyes. "Well, here's your answer. I had to relieve Effy of command, Kayote." 

            "I figured as much. But, I don't understand… what did she do?" The coyote frowned, flat disbelief on his face. "I can't imagine Effy guilty of anything…" he groped for a word. "…subversive." 

            "Me neither. Are you kidding me?" Bill shook his head at the idea before going on.  "It wasn't anything like that."

            "Then what?"

            "Do you remember how she was acting?" 

            "What, you mean how she was bitching everyone out all the time, and…oh." Kayote fell silent as the point of the conversation sunk in. Bill sat politely without speaking as the coyote worked it out. 

            "I was doing the exact same thing out there, wasn't I?" he said at last in a far more sober tone. Bill nodded slowly.

            "Yes. You were."

            "Damn. Sorry about that. I didn't realize I…no, wait." Kayote looked up, eyes bright with speculation. "That means… it's not just something wrong with Effy, is it? There's something wrong, period."

            "Right. I've noticed the same short-temperedness showing up in people all over the base. Delia practically accused me of spying on her…as if I'd want to. And Jake says his people are losing it too. Whatever's going on, it's serious." 

            The coyote was still considering. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked. 

            The dog shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, I…didn't really know what was going on. What was I supposed to say, 'Think happy thoughts?' I wasn't sure _what to tell you. Besides… Would you have believed me?" _

            Kayote bit his lip, and then nodded slowly. "Probably not. Not until now anyway," he said and Bill felt a wash of relief. He'd been more nervous at the prospect of telling his friend then he'd thought. "Are you going to inform the rest of the base?" The other went on. 

            "To think happy thoughts?! Yeah, that'd go over real well. What with the mindset on this base right now, from the…_whatever _it is, they'd probably think I'd gone nuts. But if you and I can keep cool heads then maybe we can stop…the whatever." Bill stopped talking and glanced out the window. The afternoon sun beat down upon a nearby airstrip in sizzling waves, but the husky could see heavy clouds moving quickly in. They'd have rain before the day was out. He found his eyes resting on a pair of ships sitting on the asphalt away from the base, awaiting repairs, and a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Kay, can you do a favor for me?"

Kayote cocked his head. "What?"

"Lock up the hangar, would you? I don't want anyone who may be, um, loopy getting at the planes."

"Makes sense." The Brigadier Commander got to his feet, and then paused. "Do you have any leads as to what's causing this?" he asked almost plaintively.

Bill shrugged. "Uh…well, sort of. I've spoken to Jacob about it, and he promised to keep an eye on things Titania-side. Maybe he'll be able to turn something up." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Although, come to think of it, I haven't heard from Jacob in a while. Maybe I should give him another call?" 

            Kayote shrugged. "That's your decision. What about Effy?"

            Bill blinked. "What _about Effy?"_

            "Have you talked to her since you took her off duty?"

            A wave of guilt rushed through Bill. Truly told he'd been trying _not to think of Effy, and what she must think of him, ever since he had reprimanded her. And done too good a job. With everything else going on, and the stubbornly enshrouded mystery he was trying to solve, he'd put the sassy lioness right out of his head. Now everything poured back. The baffling tumult of emotions he'd been feeling for her ever since the dance, her unwarranted anger at him, his own guilt; everything combined together in one ball of confusion and angst. One he had no idea how to deal with. "No," he admitted and hung his head slightly. "I haven't"_

            "I would," Kayote advised. "It's not fair to her not to. And you never know. Maybe if you tell her what you told me she'll be able to deal with it." He shrugged and headed for the door. At the threshold he paused again, however, and glanced over his shoulder. "I'll try to keep my temper under control," he promised, and then smiled wryly. "No matter how much it wants to get loose."

            "Yeah. Thanks, Kay. And try to keep other people…sane… if you can too, okay?"

            "Will do." The coyote gave a cheerful mock salute as he put a hand on the doorknob. He sobered for a moment. "I don't suppose I can tell Roman and Gabby about this, can I?"

            "Gabby was in here the other day yelling to me about how Phil dropped a pen."

            "That's a no, then?"

            "Yeah. That's a no." 

            Kayote nodded and left the office. Bill sat and thought about the coyote's words for a moment. He put a hand to his temples as a headache started pounding through them like dull rolling thunder. Talk to Effy? He knew he should, but his guts twisted themselves into knots at the very thought. "I hate stress," he muttered under his breath and shoved himself to his feet. 

            ***

            Effy was lying on the bed in her rooms when he found her, on her back, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. She was still in her uniform, though it was, by now, very wrinkled. She craned her neck up when she heard him come in and her face settled into a cold expression. She didn't say anything, but just looked at him. 

            Bill shifted where he stood. "Um, you didn't answer when I knocked," he said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the door. "So I just…came in."

            She continued to stare at him. If anything the air cooled a few more degrees. 

            "I mean, it's not like your sound-proofers were on, or anything. But I figured you might have had music playing, or were just…ignoring me." He trailed off. Effy hadn't moved from her position on the bed. He found himself incongruously thinking of the last time he'd seen Delia, in much the same pose. Effy broke him out of his reverie.

            "Why are you here?"

            The husky took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk."

            "About what?"

            "About…well, about things. First off…"

            "Wait, you know what? I don't care. I don't want to talk to you."

            Bill smiled slightly in confusion. "Effy, you can't just not talk to me."

            "I don't see why not." A biting touch tinged her words. "It's not like I take orders from you anymore."

            "Yeah, but it's a temporary suspension. I'm still your commander." He paused. "And I'm your friend."

            She barked a laugh, surprisingly harsh. "Friend! Right. You sure act like it." She turned on her side and propped herself up on one elbow so she could look him in the face. "Tell me, what is it about me that you hate so much?"

            He blinked. "What?"

            "Well, that is why you relieved me, isn't it? You have something against me?" She pursed her lips and looked at him speculatively. "Are you sexist?"

            "What?! No! Effy, that's not what this is about." 

            "Really," she said, flatly disbelieving. "So you fired me because…what? You were having a bad hair day?"

            "Effy, you've gotta know how you were acting." He groped to make her see. "You were spazzing out at everyone like a complete psycho. You weren't in your right mind. That's why I relieved you." He frowned down at her. "Okay, this is gonna be hard to explain. Ef, it's not your fault. There's some sort of…weird influence at work." He paused, waiting for her reaction, but she simply stared at him with her tilted cat's eyes. 

            "What I mean is, it's not just you," he tried again. "People all over the base are starting to lose control. Delia and…and Tyler have been relieved too." Her eyes flashed slightly in dislike at Delia's name, but she didn't otherwise react. "We think the Androssians might be behind it," he said. "I mean, we don't know for sure, but we think they might be trying to dull our edge, or something. Um, we think that…" he trailed off. That was just the problem; they DIDN'T know anything for sure, so how could he tell her anything for a fact?

            Effy finally spoke. "You expect me to believe that?" she said quietly.

            "Um, I was kinda hoping you would, yeah."

            The lioness stood up in one easy motion. She turned, now able to face him on more even ground, and shook her head sharply. "God!" she burst out, breaking the false feeling of calm her earlier stillness had engendered. "I really don't believe you." Bill opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke right over him. "I mean, of all the crocks I've ever heard, this one takes the cake! Now the Androssians are tampering with mind control? How?" She laughed again, the same raucous sound. "What's next? Willpower subverting toothpaste? I know. Maybe they can hire a magician to turn us all into patio furniture."

            Bill took a beseeching step forward. "Ef…"

            "But this," she chortled. "I'll say one thing for you, Bill. You **are** imaginative."

            "Effy, I…"

            "No!" She whirled to face him, all traces of humor fleeing. "Do you really expect me to believe that CRAP?! You could have at least made an **attempt **at making it believable."

            Bill felt his temper flare in indignant defense. "Hey, I'm not making this up!" 

            " Bullshit," she said distinctly. "You hate me for some reason. You wanted to get me out of the chain of command, so you fire me and think up the STUPIDEST of reasons to explain why…"

            "Effy, you've gone nuts!" Bill yelled, defensiveness turning to antagonism. "By the very definition of the word, you are **IN-SANE**! Got it?! That's why you're here." He cut himself off. His breath was coming fast in anger and he straightened his back to calm himself. Stiffly he looked down at the top of her head. "This was a mistake. You can't be talked to."

            Effy glared at him, eyes narrowed as he walked away. "Right," she snarled. "It's all on me, because I'm the _insane _one. Never mind that you're the one who's acting weird." He didn't respond but simply stomped out. The door crashed shut behind him. "Asshole," Effy muttered and flopped back onto the bed, rolling onto her back to resume her ceiling study.

             ***

            Wolf O'Donnell adjusted his altitude to match those of his wing mates with absent-minded ease, checked the progress on his radar of the Androssian task force following behind them, while simultaneously trying to ignore the mind-numbing dribble of a conversation passing through his communications system.

            "I'm telling you," Andrew's nasal voice reiterated. "You ought to read it. You're just not giving Apes of Wrath a chance."

            Pigma snorted derisively. "Yeah right. Like I'm gonna spend any time on that load of horse crap."

            "Hey, it's not crap! It's…"

            "Crap. Like monkeys are really gonna inherit the earth. Yeah right! You guys can barely bathe yourselves!

"You're one to talk. You smell like a sty!" Andrew shot back peevishly. "And I'm gonna tell Uncle Andross what you said. You're disrespecting his race, and when he finds out…"

Pigma groaned audibly. "Damn it! Will you shut up about _Uncle Andross_ already? I swear, the way you're always bringing him up you'd think you two was married or somethin'."

"I'll tell him you said that too!" Andrew practically shrieked. "You can't talk to me that way!"

"Listen. If you don't shut your trap then I may be tempted to shove a missile up your tailpipe. What d'you think about that?"

            Leon's voice joined the conversation. "I think we're _all_ tempted to do that at this point, pig."

            Wolf couldn't agree more. 

            "You guys are mean to me," Andrew sulked.

            "Damn straight," Pigma said. "Maybe if you wasn't such a pansy-assed uncle's boy we wouldn't be."

            "You never take me seriously."

            "I hate to interrupt," Leon interrupted. "But, as we're nearly to Macbeth, do you two think it at all possible that we might actually…I don't know, _concentrate_ on the mission at hand?"

            "Oh yeah!" Andrew perked up. "Hey, Wolf. How long until we get there?"

            "Yeah, 'Are we there yet, daddy'?" Pigma mocked, imitating Andrew's voice.

            "Hey, shut up!"

            "Make me."

            Wolf got a sudden almost-irresistible urge to turn his Wolfen around and gun them both down. With difficulty he strangled it into submission. Once again he glanced at his radar. "Five minutes," he said shortly into the comm. "If you live that long."

            "And may I remind you, morons" Leon drawled disdainfully. "That this mission is at least of _nominal_ importance to the Venomian Cause. It may just win the war for us, after all. So try not to screw anything up."

            "You hear that, Andrew?"

            "Bite me, Pigma." 

            Just then Wolf heard a muffled swear over the comm., but it wasn't coming from the bickering twosome. A beep sounded as his sensors showed Leon's jet fall out of formation, veering to the left wildly. It slowed and stabilized its flight a moment later, but shivered in its path as if fighting its controller's hands. A moment later the chameleon spoke over the comm. again.

            "Wolf, I have a problem."

            "I can see that," the lupine replied, checking his readings. "What is it?"

            "I don't know. My jet…there's something wrong with it. I'm losing maneuvering control." 

 "What?!" Pigma burst out, "Oh, what the hell! A malfunction now? Of all the rotten…can't the tech people do _anything_ right?!"

"Can you fix the problem?" Wolf said, raising his voice to speak over the pig's continued swearing. His brow furrowed. They didn't need trouble like this right now.

"Wolf, I don't even know what the problem _is_. And if it _is_ something caused by incompetent mechanics, which seems likely, then I doubt very much that it will be something that is fixable while in space." The lizard made an irritated sound. "I'm going to have to turn around."

"What, now?" Andrew protested. "But we're so close!"

Leon replied in his frostiest tone. "It will hardly do me any good to get involved in the battle, you ignoramus, if I cannot control my plane. Now will it?" There was a pause, and then an expectant, "Wolf?"

O'Donnell growled aloud in frustration. "You're my best wingman. Oh, very well! We'll do without you. But, Leon?" Wolf paused and gave a vicious grin the chameleon couldn't see. "Do me a favor. Find the mechanic responsible and kill him."

"I'll do you one better than that." Leon sounded amused. "I've been looking for a new person to introduce to the Stocks." His plane made another abortive jerk and the lizard reined it in with difficulty. "I've got to go, if I'm to get back with this piece of junk in one piece, that is. Good luck with the attack. And do I mean that." With those words he turned his plane around and headed back the way they'd come.

Wolf watched him go and then dismissed the other from his mind. There was a battle approaching, after all, and they didn't seem to be getting there fast enough. Desperate to begin the carnage, the lupine urged his plane to a faster speed while Pigma and Andrew moved near to close the gap Leon's absence created. 

"It's a bad omen," Andrew muttered over the comm. "Leon's plane messing up right now? Right before a battle? We're screwed."

"Oh, will you shut up!" Pigma snarled at him. "I don't buy none of that superstitious crap. It don't mean nothin'!"

His voice, Wolf thought, was just a little too pinched to make that statement plausible. He obviously believed more than he was willing to admit. The lupine had to grin again at their cowardice. It would be no bad thing, actually, if the other two managed to get themselves killed. Then he wouldn't have to put up with them anymore. That thought was very appealing. As the bluish orb of Macbeth loomed close in front of them, Wolf found his eagerness for bloodshed growing. 

***

The phone was on it's fifth ring before it was picked up with a click.

"_What?!_"

Bill jerked the phone away from his ear and blinked at it for a second before carefully putting it back again. "Uh…Jacob?"

"Bill?" The kit fox's voice was ripe with frustration. "What do you want?"

"Well, I hadn't heard from you in, like, forever, and we said we were going to stay in touch in case either of us found anything out…so…"

"I don't have time for that now." Jacob's voice interrupted him, sounding hurried. And annoyed. "I have more important things to worry about." 

"Well…it kinda _is_ important, Jake. I mean, if the Androssians…"

"The Androssians are attacking," the other cut him off again.

Bill was surprised. "What?"

"You heard me. The Androssians are attacking. Right now. They sent a fleet to Macbeth. I was just about to leave with a squadron of my own to help Corrin with the defense." His tone turned frosty. "So, you see, I really don't have time to worry about your friends' social problems."

"But…wow. I mean…why didn't anyone tell _me_ about this?" Normally, in the case of an attack, _all_ the bases would be informed. That way, if the enemy broke through any and every commander would be prepared to step in with reinforcements. 

"Yet another thing I don't have time for. Look, Bill. Not that it's not nice chatting and everything, but I have a war to fight. Why don't you go play detective by yourself."

The line clicked dead. Bill hung up and stared at the wall for a second. "Well, it's got Jacob," he said aloud. And the Androssians were attacking Macbeth. Abruptly he got to his feet and strode to the door of his office, opening it. As he'd expected, Kayote was standing at the end of the hall, eating a sandwich and talking to Didi. 

"Kayote," he called. 

The other looked up and swallowed a mouthful of BLT. "Yeah, Bill?"

"We've got a bit of a problem here."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing much. The Venomians are attacking Macbeth."

"What?!"

"Yeah."

"But…why didn't anyone tell us?"

Bill shrugged. "Don't know. I couldn't get a straight answer out of Jacob. But do me a favor? See if you can get in touch with anyone over there. See if they need any backup. I'm gonna call the general."

The coyote nodded. "Right." He took what was left of his sandwich and hurried into his office. Bill went back into his own and sat down. Things had gone far enough. He had to call General Pepper and tell him what he knew. _Something_ very bizarre was going on, and, whatever it was, he didn't think it an accident that the enemy would choose to launch an assault right in the middle of it. Maybe the general would know more than he did about what was happening. Enough to fix things, even? It was a slim hope, but it was better than nothing.  

***

_Annoying footnote: Wow! Another chapter finished! Now you can REVIEW and tell us what you think. Of course, if you don't… We'll understand. We'll be sad, and probably go months without eating, sleeping, or bathing… But, we'll understand. We'll generate some unhealthy obsession with your immediate demise… But we'll understand. Above all, we're very sensitive, and may commit suicide… But… We WILL understand. *This message brought to you by the "American Melodrama Association."* All rights reserved. See side panel for details. _


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